SENT FROM ABOVE
by NiteJasmine
Summary: Murdered family, multiple ex-wives... Leroy Jethro Gibbs really needs a wonderful woman in his life, he just doesn't know it yet... This should be quite a journey... R&R please! Still rated T for now...
1. Chapter 1

**SENT FROM ABOVE**

**An NCIS FanFic**

**By NiteJasmine**

**Inspired by a recent episode with a 'Shannon' flashback. I wanted to find a way for Gibbs to get a woman into his life to chase away all the pain and loneliness… I just love these strong leading men with their poor tortured souls! This is T for now, possible M later.**

**First NCIS fic ever… reviews are heartily encouraged and very welcome!**

Chapter 1

Shannon and Jethro Gibbs stand in a misty flower garden, embracing each other lovingly.

Shannon looks up and smiles. "Jethro," she says gently. "You need someone. You shouldn't be so alone. Remember what I said? How are you ever going to get what you need if you never let me go?"

"What?" Gibbs says in disbelief. "Honey, I don't need anyone else." He grins reassuringly. "I'm with you. And I'm staying right here."

Shannon touches his face gently. "You can't," she says, shaking her head sadly. "You can't stay Jethro."

She pulls back from him slightly, and he looks hurt and confused. "What are you doing? I don't understand…"

"We don't have much more time," she interrupts. "So please… listen to me. You've been hurt so much, by so many. It's time for you to let go… and let someone in. I can't stand seeing you in so much pain. And so alone. So let me do this for you. I will find you someone very, very special. Someone who will love you, who will never leave you, and will never hurt you. Someone you can trust…. someone you can love."

"No, Shannon," he pleads. "Please don't do that. Please… I can't love anyone else… I _won't_…"

"Do it for me, Jethro… Please… Just try… Do it for me. I'll find a way to make sure you know it's her…"

She smiles at him, and she begins stepping backwards from him, moving further and further away.

He wants to chase after her, but he can't move. He is frozen in place.

"No… wait…" he begs. "Shannon… no… don't go…"

"I'll send her to you Jethro…" she says, nearly gone from his sight.

"Shannon… Shannon…" he calls over and over. "Shannon!"

_LJGLJGLJGLJGLJG_

The ambulance gurney hurtles quickly down a brightly lit hallway and bursts through the ER doors, carrying a bloody Jethro Gibbs strapped to it. Gibbs is mumbling and calling Shannon's name, with a pained look on his face. Urgent voices are heard as an oxygen mask is put over his nose and mouth, silencing him. The voices swirl around him as he slips into unconsciousness and his eyes flutter shut…

_Adult male… Multiple gunshot wounds... Left abdomen, right shoulder. He's lost a lot of blood… BP's dropping fast… Respiration shallow, pulse thready… Prep the OR stat... We've got to get this hemorrhaging under control or he's gonna bleed out right here…_

As the doctors work frantically to stabilize Gibbs, McGee is watching worriedly through a small glass window. Tony and Ziva burst through the hallway doors at a run and quickly approach him.

"McGee," Ziva said, nearly breathless. "We just heard. Where is Gibbs? Is he…" Her voice stopped in mid-sentence as she turned and looked through the window.

"Took two hits," McGee said evenly. "They're working on him now."

"And the shooter?" Tony asked.

"Dead." McGee answered firmly.

"Good," Tony replied. "What the hell happened?"

McGee took a deep breath. "It was a total ambush. I mean, I don't understand it. Gibbs barely got out of the car before this guy points an AK-47 out the front door of a house across the street and opens fire. Full auto. Gibbs went down. I returned fire and got the guy. Still waiting on an ID. And a motive."

McGee clenches his jaw. "It's just dumb luck that I was on the wrong side of the car," he said angrily. "That gave me cover. I should have been driving. It should've been me. I should be the one lying on that table in there…"

"Hey, whoa, whoa," Tony said gently. "Easy Tim. C'mon. There's no way Gibbs would let anyone else drive." Attempting to diffuse the tense situation with a touch of humor he added, "Especially a probie. Besides. Gibbs is always OK. He's a Marine. He's gonna be fine. Right?... Right?"

But Tony's attempt at levity fell flat as the three of them solemnly watched the doctors work on their wounded boss.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Ziva finally asked quietly.

McGee pauses for a moment. "Yeah. It's bad."

_**To Be Continued…**_


	2. Ch2 The Journey Begins

CHAPTER 2: THE JOURNEY BEGINS

Gibbs struggled through the fog, trying to fight his way into consciousness. It felt like he was crawling through thick mud.

_Actually, no… _Some distant part of his brain reminded him. _You have crawled through thick mud before… more than once… And it was a lot easier than this…_

He slowly became aware of soft beeping sounds, and felt a rather large tube down his throat. It was very uncomfortable, like it was choking him… he wanted to haul much more air into his lungs, but this infernal tube wouldn't let him. His first initial instinct was to fight against it and find a way to rip it out. But having awakened so many times before with the very same feeling, another distant part of his memory recognized it… and knew it was there for a reason. So he forced himself to relax and accept the horrendous plastic tube parked down his parched dry throat. He knew he couldn't talk.

What exactly had happened? Was he safe? Where was everyone? Where was his team?

His mind swirled, searching to make sense of everything…

_Hospital… You got shot… _Slowly, the memories of his injury came to him. He was getting out of the car, McGee was exiting the passenger's side… and a sharp searing pain suddenly tore through his stomach and his shoulder. He remembered hearing the weapon's rapid report, and then his body hitting the pavement… There had been no warning… no hint… no nothing…

His memory blurred a bit after that, brief snapshots and urgent shouting voices. And then he remembered Shannon. He had been with her, talked to her. He remembered what she had said to him. He remembered every detail, especially what she had said about sending him someone to love. And he promptly dismissed the whole thing as just his sub-conscious acting out some trauma-induced episode… nothing more.

With a rather hearty effort, he forced his eyes open, and blinked several times. Although the ambient light in the room was a soft amber color, it felt harshly bright to his sensitive eyes. He became aware that there was someone else in the room… there was a small warm hand wrapped gently around his…

"Gibbs!" Abby jumped up and squealed at the sight of his half-open eyes, nearly spilling the huge Caf-Pow cup from her lap. She squeezed his hand again gently as she jumped to her feet. Her eyes looked slightly bloodshot and tired, but were now wide open and dancing with her sparkling internal energy that he knew so well.

"Oh my God, Gibbs," Abby said urgently, leaning closer. "You're awake! OK… listen… don't try to talk. They still have that stupid tube thing down your throat… Anyway, right. Update… OK. You got shot, twice. The crazy thing? It was just some nut case off his meds. Totally unrelated to any case we're working on. The good thing? McGee got him. He's not gonna be shooting anyone… ever again. Anyway, you had surgery, and it went fine. You lost a lot of blood, and you've been asleep for hours… but…"

Abby calmed herself and slowed down, then moved closer to him. She brushed her hand across the side of his face, her eyes going soft with concern and affection.

"But you're going to be OK," she said warmly, nearly whispering. She leaned over and placed a lingering kiss on his forehead. "You hear me Gibbs? You're going to be alright."

He blinked his acknowledgement, and gave her hand a light squeeze.

"You just rest," Abby said, smiling brightly. "That's all you need to do. Just rest. You're going to be OK."

He was vaguely aware of her voice, chattering excitedly into her cell phone, as he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

_**A/N: I have a truckload of really fun and cool ideas for this story, and I think this particular fic may be rather personally challenging for me as I explore them. I plan to try and keep everyone as true to in-character as possible, only altering what I absolutely must in order to make my storyline work… but, hey, that's what FanFiction is all about right? This is going to be a really fun journey, both for Gibbs as well as myself. I really hope you enjoy the journey with me! Thanks for reading, and reviews are always welcome! -NiteJasmine**_


	3. Ch3 Silver Fox Sighted

Chapter 3: Silver Fox Sighted

Gibbs recovered quickly, and within a few short weeks, he had been sent home. Due to his abdominal injury, he had to move pretty slowly, and avoid lifting anything heavier than a can of soda. And his right arm was in a sling for quite a while, seriously hampering his movements overall. He hated taking the damn painkillers, but for a while he really didn't have a choice, they were absolutely necessary just to function.

His devoted team worked out a schedule and took turns, so that someone was always with him around the clock. They catered to him and doted on him, regardless of his numerous requests to the contrary. He really never complained all that strongly though, as he knew full well that he needed the help. And despite the intrusion on his strong Marine pride, he was sincerely appreciative of it, even though the forced lack of independence frustrated the hell out of him.

But eventually, he healed. And after a few sessions of some light physical therapy for his shoulder, he was finally cleared to return to full active duty.

He couldn't have been more elated to get the green light. He was only too eager to put that whole chapter behind him and once again throw himself headlong into whatever crisis presented itself, and completely bury himself in his work.

He quickly moved back into his comfortable command position, the stern and stalwart head of his team at NCIS. And he made sure to take the time and personally thank every single one of them for all of their help and extra efforts.

But after that, it was back to business as usual. All was back to normal as far as he was concerned, and although he thought about his bizarre dream conversation with his late wife from time to time, he dismissed the entire episode as a whole and really didn't give it another serious thought...

**LJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJG**

The microwave pinged and he pulled his attention away from the campy old cowboy western on TV. It had been just over six months since he had been returned to active duty, and he now had three complicated but freshly solved cases under his belt.

He was alone, in his own house, and totally independent again.

He hauled himself up off the living room sofa and gingerly collected the steaming parcel from the small appliance oven, careful not to scald himself as he peeled back the thin film cover and stirred the mushy contents with a fork. He returned to the couch and quickly ate his bland-tasting dinner in the dark room, quietly watching the black and white heroes on horseback thundering across the plains, handily defeating the evil bad guys.

A few hours later, he clicked off the TV and nestled down into the familiar cushions of that very same sofa. He settled in and pulled a thin blanket up over his own shoulders, took a deep breath, and drifted off to sleep…

**LJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJG**

It was another morning of clear blue skies and bright sunshine.

Gibbs strode confidently out of the elevator and headed for his desk, a large steaming hot cup of his favorite coffee in his hand. A normal, usual morning, just like any other. But just as he turned the corner into his team's small bullpen, he stopped short and stared. Rarely was there anything that could bring him to an utter and complete halt, but this was proving itself to be one of them…

Nestled smack between McGee and Tony was a brand new empty desk. The only thing it had on it was a department computer, waiting for a user.

"Morning Boss," chimed Tony, cautiously.

"What the hell is that?" Gibbs asked, pointing to the desk with a slightly annoyed expression.

The team looked around at each other uncomfortably for a brief couple of seconds before McGee responded.

"Um, we don't know, Boss," Tim said, puzzled. "We were just about to ask you."

Gibbs began to say something, but his cell phone rang and he flipped it open and answered it. "Gibbs." He paused, listening briefly. "On my way," he replied, snapping the phone shut.

"I'll be in the Director's office," he said curtly, then turned and headed for the stairway.

_What the hell is Leon up to now?_ He wondered to himself…

**LJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJG**

The elevator chimed softly and the doors slid open.

"Right this way," the drab older woman from Human Resources said to her, motioning for her to follow along. Since arriving at oh-five-hundred this morning, they had been on a rather lengthy odyssey of paperwork and seemingly endless bureaucratic processes getting her new employment status all set up. Questionnaires, security clearances, user IDs, retinal scans, passwords, on and on and on. And it was beginning to tax her patience. Had she made a serious mistake transferring to NCIS?

As she walked across the squad room, following her dull escort, she finally saw something interesting. Very interesting indeed. She caught sight of a gorgeous man with short grey hair cruising up the double staircase at the far end of the room.

_Now there's a silver-haired fox_, she thought to herself, admiring his lean muscular frame. She felt a strong attraction to him immediately, and a faint rush of color rose to her cheeks.

The dark grey suit and pale blue shirt he wore did nothing to hide the fact that he was still very much in shape. He moved with an easy athletic grace, striding determinedly up the stairs, clutching an extra-large Starbucks cup in one hand. Within a few seconds, he slipped through a door and disappeared from sight.

She made a mental note to try and find out more about him, just as soon as she had the chance. She wondered what his name was…

But right now there were more pressing matters to focus her attention on, so she mentally shook herself out of her brief romantic reverie and squared her shoulders, suddenly being aware of several sets of curious eyes upon her as she followed along behind the dreary HR woman. They climbed the very same set of stairs and she was ushered into Director Leon Vance's expansive office.

The big man stood up from behind his desk as she entered, and while she readily acknowledged the Director, she was also slightly taken aback to suddenly find herself face to face with her silver-haired fox…


	4. Ch4 Meet The Team

Chapter 4: Meet the Team

Gibbs stood in front of Vance's desk and was just about to demand an explanation of the empty desk downstairs when the office door opened and an extremely attractive woman was escorted in. Standing about 5'8", she was lean and trim. Dark russet-red hair hung in soft wavy layers that just brushed across her shoulders. Pale emerald eyes sparkled with intelligence.

For a few brief seconds, it felt as though time stopped, and nothing else existed. His sole thought was just one word: '_Wow…'_

He watched her as she crossed the room towards them. She moved smoothly, with a graceful but powerful elegance. She carried herself with confidence, but with no hint of any arrogant challenge. She was exquisitely intriguing… But what was she doing here…?

Gibbs snapped himself back to reality, and immediately put two and two together, and realized what was going on. Leon Vance was meddling. Stepping on toes…_ His_ toes. _Stomping_ on them more accurately. The Director was messing around with his team, and the knowledge of that fact instantly pissed him off.

"Agent McLaren," Director Vance said cheerfully. He extended his hand to her. "Welcome to NCIS."

She smiled and grasped Vance's hand in a firm handshake. "Director Vance," she said cordially. "Thank you."

"Agent Gibbs," Leon continued. "Meet the newest member of your team. This is Agent Emily McLaren. Just transferred over to us from the CIA. Agent McLaren, this is Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Your new boss."

Emily turned and found herself staring into a pair of intense blue eyes, and her stomach tightened slightly. The silver fox was not smiling. He was clearly not pleased, not pleased at all.

Still, he courteously shook her hand.

"Agent Gibbs," she said pleasantly. "A pleasure, Sir. I'm looking forward to working with you."

Gibbs glanced over at Leon, then back to her. "Would you wait outside for a minute?" He asked, but it was more a command than a question.

She nodded. "Certainly Sir," she replied. Emily nodded to Vance also. "Director." She left the room and shut the door behind her.

The door had barely latched when Gibbs fired away.

"Since when do _you_ make changes to _my_ team _Director Vance_?" He demanded sternly.

Leon stood his ground. "Since today, _Agent Gibbs,"_ he retorted, just as stern. "And I have every authority to make whatever changes to your team that I see fit. Let's not forget that. Your team is being added to. Nobody is being replaced. Now I would assume that you would want to keep it that way. Am I correct?"

"What is this Leon?" Gibbs continued. "Another family relative of the Secretary? Another political favor? What?"

"A, that's none of your concern. B, it's also irrelevant," Leon said evenly. "She's a good agent. She's already proven herself…"

"Not to me, she hasn't," Gibbs interrupted stubbornly.

The Director leaned across his desk and leveled an icy gaze at Gibbs. "Let me make something clear," Leon said, slowly speaking every word. "She… is an asset. And you… will treat her as such. Understood?"

Gibbs glowered back at the man behind the desk for a few moments before responding.

"Understood," he finally said acidly. "Director."

"Good," Leon answered, leaning back and settling himself back into his chair. "Now if you don't mind, we've all got work to do."

Gibbs left the office and found the new agent waiting patiently for him in the hallway. Sparkling emerald green eyes greeted him as he walked up and stood in front of her for a moment.

As ticked off as he was to have another new team member to break in, at least she wasn't a complete probie. That scored a few points in her favor. He was curious why she had left the CIA, but that was a question for another time. Despite all that, he had to admit that she was absolutely stunning.

_Damn. Why the hell did she have to be a red-head? _ He thought to himself.

"Alright," he said with a heavy sigh. "Follow me." He turned and strode quickly for the stairs, thinking he would leave her scurrying along well behind him.

"With you Sir," she spouted off, and quickly matched cadence with him, staying just behind his right shoulder and easily matching his stride perfectly. He noticed.

_Hmm. Another point in her favor._

They walked along for a few seconds before she broke the silence.

"They didn't tell you I was coming… did they Sir?" She asked gently.

"Nope." Gibbs replied flatly as they both cruised quickly down the stairway together.

"I can understand why you're upset, Sir."

"I'm not upset," he said matter-of-factly. "And don't call me Sir."

She didn't have a chance to ask him just what else she should call him as they rounded the corner into the bullpen.

"New team member," Gibbs announced as he kept walking and slid into his own chair behind his desk. He immediately busied himself with the array of papers in front of him as four sets of eyes looked at him expectantly. He waved a hand in the air. "Get to know each other," he said without looking up.

DiNozzo virtually leapt from his chair, causing both McGee and Ziva to look at each other and roll their eyes. Tony grabbed Emily's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he said with a broad smile. "You can call me Tony. And you are?"

"Agent Emily McLaren," she said, smiling politely back. "Formerly of the CIA."

"CIA?" Tony asked incredulous. "Hey Ziva. Look. It's one of your ex-boyfriend's pals. Good old C-I-Ray."

Emily furrowed her brow in momentary confusion. "I'm sorry… C-I-what?"

"Oh, nothing," Tony laughed. "Just a little… inside joke."

Ziva walked over and shoved Tony in the shoulder, pushing him aside.

"Do not listen to him," Ziva said seriously. She shot Tony a steady glare. "And do not believe a word that he says."

'Me?' Tony mouthed silently, pointing to himself with an exaggerated finger.

Ziva turned her attention back to Emily and extended her hand. "Agent Ziva David," she said warmly. "Welcome to the team."

"Thank you," Emily replied, shaking her hand and smiling.

"Behind you there is Agent Tim McGee," Ziva continued. McGee walked up and shook her hand as well.

"A pleasure. And please. Call me Emily."

Everyone slowly disbursed, back to their desks. Emily headed for the empty one, which was now hers. She sat down and hoped to just quietly settle in. She tugged on the top drawer handle.. and nothing happened. She tugged harder. The drawer didn't budge. She realized that everyone's attention was now focused on her silent battle with the desk drawer. She yanked hard on the stubborn handle once more. Nothing. It was wedged tightly shut.

"Ah, you know those things can be really temperamental," Tony said smoothly, beginning to slide his chair towards her. "Here. You just got know how to…"

Emily stood up quickly. "No, it's alright. I've got it," she said, cutting him off.

She walked to the edge of the desk, looked down, and slammed her right fist down against the side of the desk, causing a loud echoing bang. She reached back and hooked one finger through the drawer handle and flicked it. The drawer slid easily open.

DiNozzo was completely taken aback. "Wow," he said, forcing a wary smile. "You've, uh… you've got quite a punch there…"

Emily just smiled back at him and sat back down.

"You… work out?" Tony queried.

"Yes." Emily answered simply.

Tony's eyes narrowed at her for a moment, studying her. "Military?" He asked.

She looked back over at him. "Marines."

"Oh," Ziva chimed in. "You are a Marine?"

Emily smiled and her eyes sparkled brightly. "Yes Ma'am," she said proudly.

Even Gibbs couldn't keep his focus glued to the papers on his desk when he heard that. He looked up at her. _A Marine. More points. Lots more points…_

_***A/N- Many, many thanks to all who send me reviews, no matter how short or small. I appreciate all the feedback… it really keeps me going! Hope you are all enjoying the journey so far… lots more fun stuff to come!**_


	5. Chapter 5 Making An Impression

Chapter 5: Making An Impression

Emily McLaren spent the rest of her first day at NCIS settling in, and she found herself easily adapting to the team's dynamic. Most of her trepidations were quickly quelled as she began to establish a comfortable interaction with her fellow team members. The only one who still concerned her was Gibbs. He didn't participate in the general chatter at all, but rather sat at his desk, unsmiling, working away in silence. Even so, she was fascinated by the man. And she still found him exceedingly attractive, although she would never compromise her professionalism by displaying anything like that in the workplace.

She knew she had her work cut out for her in proving herself, and she would just have to patient and wait for that opportunity. But getting _his_ approval and acceptance was looking like it would be quite a daunting task…

LJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJG

Gibbs stayed planted at his desk most of the day, and forced himself to focus on the paperwork that needed to be completed. He was still smoldering at the Director for stomping on his toes and messing with his team, so he attempted to ignore the light banter between the others and the newbie. But he couldn't. Not only was everyone in rather close proximity, but her desk was directly across from his. He heard every single word.

And soon enough, even though he refused to show it, he actually began to warm up to the new girl. He already admired her. The confident but non-threatening way she carried herself, respectful and unassuming. She maintained a calm and professional demeanor, while at the same time seemingly comfortable and well at ease chatting with the others. She had a brilliant smile and a pleasant, almost lilting voice that was enjoyable to listen to. She was strong, but completely disarming at the same time. Gibbs thought it would be a good bet that she could charm the socks off of a Tibetan Sherpa or sell ice to an Eskimo.

And it didn't escape his notice that she was damned attractive. Her chestnut red hair complimented her lovely features and hung in layered waves that looked like they would be soft as silk to the touch. And although it was obvious that she was very much in shape, she still had alluring curves in all the right places.

However, the one thing that intrigued him the most about her, were her eyes. Pale pools of emerald green that seemed to have a luminescence all their own. They sparkled and danced when she spoke, and lit up like a New York Christmas tree when she laughed. It was those eyes that he found so incredibly captivating…

He reminded himself that she was also a Marine, so he didn't doubt for a minute that she could hold her own quite well in any kind of stressful situation, including thumping the stuffing out of some bad guy should the need arise.

His trust did not come easily, but he could already feel himself leaning heavily in that direction already. And despite being pissed off at the Director, he found himself being rather pleased to have her on board. He was actually looking forward to seeing how she handled herself out in the field.

All these thoughts tumbled through his head for the rest of the day, making it rather challenging to keep his focus on the paperwork in front of him. But he relied in his own stubborn will to maintain his detached demeanor, and keeping everything to himself. It was something he was quite good at.

Before he realized it, the work day was over, and everyone began disbursing to the elevators and heading for the parking garage.

As usual, Gibbs was one of the last to leave. He stood there quietly for a few moments, staring at Emily's desk, absorbing all the events of the day. Then shut off his desk lamp and headed home.

LJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJG

The smell of sawdust hung heavy in the air. Gibbs hesitated, then tossed the sanding block down onto the table with mild annoyance. He picked up the small mason jar and swirled the dregs of bourbon around the bottom of it, before sighing heavily and taking a sip. He felt the familiar amber liquid burn on the way down his throat.

_Damn it._ He wondered to himself. _What the hell is wrong with me tonight?_

He felt anxious, pensive, unable to concentrate on what he was doing. He had felt that way ever since he left the office. But he couldn't identify why. It made no sense. There was no case looming over his head, no deadline to meet, no bad guy needing to be urgently tracked down. So there was no logical reason that he should be so pent up. But that didn't change the fact that he definitely was.

So he had come down here to his retreat, his safe place of comfort, and busied himself with the task of sanding down a few boat ribs. Working with wood down here in his basement always helped him. It was his therapy. It distracted him, relaxed him. And it always worked.

Except it wasn't working tonight.

He sat down heavily on one of the hard wooden chairs and leaned back, resting his head against the wall. He downed the last remains of his bourbon from the little mason jar, then rubbed his eyes and gave another frustrated sigh.

He set his glass down and let his mind drift, hoping to find something relaxing to focus on. _Think of something pleasant, _he ordered himself_. Something nice…_

Images of Emily McLaren immediately sprang into his thoughts. They flooded into his consciousness so rapidly and with such ferocity that it somewhat startled him. He tried to push them away, but they wouldn't go. He waged a brief internal battle with himself before making an unusual decision. Against his better judgment, he finally decided to indulge himself and just let those thoughts flow freely.

And flow they did…

He closed his eyes and could picture her vividly, every detail about her crisp and sharp, like she was standing right in front of him…

Her silky red hair cascaded across her shoulders, and she flashed him a dazzling smile that lit up the room. Her soft hand reached out and gently stroked along his face, and those sparkling green eyes gazed warmly at him…

He imagined his hands slowly wandering along her curves, feeling her body respond to him…

Her soft lips rising up to meet his, slowly at first, then with more urgency…

His thoughts barreled along, full steam ahead, going further and further down that forbidden path, until he suddenly jolted awake, breathing rapidly.

He looked up at the clock by the staircase. 3:15 AM. He blinked a few times, and stared at it in disbelief. He had been asleep for over 4 hours. And dreaming… Oh yea, definitely dreaming. And he remembered every bit of it…

Yet as incredibly pleasurable as it was, he was instantly upset with himself. When had he ever had such racy, sensuous, erotic dreams? And fantasizing like that about a co-worker? What the hell?

_Stop it. Just knock it off… _he chided himself.

He shook his head and leaned forward slowly, groaning lightly as his back voiced its disapproval at being plastered against the unforgiving wooden chair for so long. He forced himself to his feet and slowly made his way up the stairs, snapping the basement lights off as he made the top landing. He shuffled into the living room and flopped down onto the couch. Not even bothering to take his clothes off, he pulled a blanket up and over himself and with another soft groan he settled into the familiar cushions. His body still tingled from the vividness of his dream, but despite the excited physical response still quite evident below his belt, he was tired.

He drifted back to sleep, and was able to get a few more hours of quiet, restful slumber before the first rays of early morning light gently roused him awake.

_Coffee…_ he thought as he slowly opened his eyes. _Need some coffee…_

_**A/N: Took a short break off for the holidays, but I'm back at the keyboard and I've got some good stuff brewing! Thanks for reading, & reviews are always welcome!**_


	6. Ch6 'Ex' Marks The Spot

Chapter 6: 'Ex' Marks The Spot

The elevator dinged its familiar tone and Ziva exited as soon as the doors opened, heading for her desk. But just as she began to round the corner, she spotted something amiss. She saw Tony DiNozzo's backside. The Senior Field Agent was hunched over something rather close to the floor, and was intently fiddling with it, which had his posterior stuck up into the air and the tailored stitching of his designer trousers prominently on display.

Recognizing a rare opportunity, Ziva immediately slipped into stealth mode and snuck up silently behind him until she was mere inches away…

"What are you doing?" Ziva demanded loudly, startling the hell out of Tony and causing him to whirl around, nearly losing his balance. He struggled to quickly get his feet back underneath himself, and then narrowed his eyes at the intruding familiar female, immediately recognizing the knowing smirk on her face…

"Nothing! And… _don't_ do that!" He spat defensively. Ziva muffled a slight giggle, but then resumed her intense scrutiny. Tony took a deep breath before continuing. "What? What are you looking at?" Tony asked, trying to sound as non-committal as possible. But his attempt to play it off was met with a very skeptical sideways smirking glare. The tension mounted.

Ziva broke her piercing glare and glanced down for a second, and spotted a familiar item. It was an NCIS crime scene backpack, no doubt loaded with the proper and required gear, and apparently now also with a little something extra, courtesy of Tony DiNozzo.

The elevator dinged again, and McGee strolled onto the floor. He halted immediately when he saw Tony and Ziva both standing still and staring each other down. Something was going on, but he had no idea what. So he approached cautiously, and was then able to hear their conversation.

"That is Agent McLaren's gear," Ziva said accusingly to Tony. "What were you doing with it?" She paused, and raised an eyebrow in question.

Tony smiled in response. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, Tony," Ziva finally said, exasperated. "The woman has barely been here 24 hours, and you are already planning some sort of childish prank?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is that really how your brain works? Because it is… disturbing."

"No," Tony replied slyly, deflecting her focus to something else. "What's disturbing… is having some newbie getting in to the office before Gibbs."

Both McGee and Ziva looked around. And they both had to admit, it was something quite out of the ordinary. "OK," Ziva replied. "So perhaps you have a point…"

"So… where is he…?" McGee interjected tentatively, his eyebrows knitting in suspicion.

"Getting coffee," came the off-hand reply. They all looked towards the sound, and caught sight of their boss as he strode quickly into the bullpen with a huge carry-out tray full of large plastic-topped Starbucks cups in his hand. They watched with quiet fascination as Gibbs distributed the giant cups of steaming hot java onto everyone's desks.

Their eyes all followed him as he went and sat down at his own desk.

He realized that he was the object of their curious focus and looked up, his gaze catching every one of them.

"Is there a problem?" He asked flatly.

They all answered 'no' very quickly, and then scattered for their desks. But one desk was still pointedly empty.

"Where's McLaren?" Gibbs demanded.

"Um, her gear is here boss, but…" began Tony, but he was shortly interrupted…

The elevator dinged and a man wearing an oversized baseball cap pulled down on his head and donning dark sunglasses exited onto the floor. He strode hesitantly towards the bullpen, and Gibbs caught sight of him quickly, cutting off Tony as he stood up to head the stranger off.

"Can I help you?" Gibbs asked, stopping the man in his tracks.

"I'm looking for, um," the strange man replied in a deep baritone voice. He looked down and consulted a small note in his hand. "An Agent… Gibbs?"

"That's me," their leader replied.

"Oh, well, good. Uh, yes, Sir. Actually," the man continued, "I'm looking for Emily McLaren. She works here now. The front desk said to ask for you, Sir. Said that you're her new boss? Is she available for a moment?"

Before Gibbs could answer, Emily emerged around the corner from the break room with a huge mug of coffee in her hand. When she caught sight of the man standing there, she halted momentarily in her tracks, and nearly dropped her coffee mug on the floor.

"Kevin?" She asked loudly, her face blanching. It was only her second day here. She definitely did not need _this_.

She set her coffee cup down on her desk as she quickly approached the man. "What are you doing here?" She asked him nervously.

The man sighed heavily. "Don't get all worked up, Em," he said patiently. "Look. You live… on a boat. A boat… that is no longer docked at the Harbor Point Marina." He pulled an envelope from his pocket and held it out in front of her. "So, my lawyer didn't know where to send your alimony check. Thought I would drop it off… so it's not late."

Emily's expression softened. She nodded and took the envelope from his hand. "Thank you," she said, with a slight smile. "Appreciate it."

The man nodded. He paused, and there was an awkward silence. "You look good," he said.

"Aw, Kev," she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Don't start. Thanks for dropping off the check. Now would you please… just… leave?"

The man huffed and shook his head as well. "Jesus, Em," he said with a smirk. "If I had a goddamn nickel for every time I heard you say _that_…"

The small smile left her face and Emily leveled a serious stare at him.

"OK, yeah, yeah," he said, backing up. "Oh, I know _that_ look. Alright. I'm going, I'm going." He put his hands up briefly and then started for the elevator doors.

As soon as the door slid shut, Emily turned to Gibbs.

"I am _really_ sorry about that," she said to her stoically silent boss. "And it will _not_ ever happen again."

Gibbs knew exactly how she felt. He had been embarrassed how many times by one of his ex's? But he kept those inner thoughts to himself.

Tony had watched the man the whole time, his eyes narrowing as the guy disappeared into the elevator.

"He looks familiar," Tony said aloud, not sure if anyone was really listening to him. "Very familiar. I swear I've seen that guy before. Hey, McLaren," he said turning to her. "Who was that guy?"

"My ex-husband," Emily shot back, annoyed.

Momentarily derailed from his memory search, Tony seized on the new topic. "Did I hear him say you live on a _boat_?" Tony queried.

"Yes. I do," Emily replied with a sigh. "A 45 foot Morgan Ketch."

That got Gibbs' attention instantly, but he didn't show it. _A Morgan Ketch. And a 45-footer? That's a damn nice boat…_ he thought to himself.

After a brief pause, McGee leaned over. "That's a sailboat Tony," he said sincerely.

"Yeah… Thanks there… Mister McNautical," DiNozzo fired back. "I _knew_ that."

The bantering came to an abrupt halt as Gibbs' phone rang. He answered it, and a few seconds later, he was reaching into his desk for his gun and shield.

"Grab your gear," came the familiar command. "Dead Marine in Norfolk. McLaren, you're with me." Gibbs was already halfway to the elevator, but Emily snatched her backpack from the floor and caught up with him quickly.

"With you Sir…" she said, then cringed slightly. "I mean, with you…" she corrected. She took a short, frustrated breath. "Still working on the 'Sir' thing, Sir," she said, cringing again as the elevator doors slid shut and everyone could hear her. "Still… working on… that."

Knowing it would be near impossible for a Marine not to say 'Sir,' he almost grinned. Almost.

"Understood," Gibbs replied flatly.

"Nothing personal McLaren, but I swear I've seen your ex somewhere before," Tony said. "I never forget a face. And no offense, but he sure looks like one really creepy guy."

"What? Oh, come on. He's not creepy. He's alright… really," Emily answered. "But… there's a reason I live on a boat."

But before any more questions could be asked or answered, the elevator doors slid open and they were all now focused on the awaiting crime scene. The other 3 agents branched away and hurried off towards their own car, leaving Emily and Gibbs together.

And as the two of them approached a gleaming black Dodge Charger, Gibbs tossed her the car keys…


	7. Ch7 In The Field

Chapter 7: In The Field

McLaren was quiet during the ride to the crime scene as Gibbs navigated their way through the congested city traffic. She took the time to quickly twist her hair up and secure it before slipping on her brand new NCIS cap. She knew very little about her new boss, but she was fairly certain by his demeanor that he would not appreciate sitting next to some rapidly chattering squirrel. So she thought she would just follow his lead. If he wanted quiet, then quiet it would be.

Halfway to the scene, however, it was Gibbs who actually broke the silence.

"If you're going to a member of my team," she said, never taking his eyes from the road. "You're going to have to learn my rules."

"OK," Emily replied agreeably. "Such as?"

Gibbs actually cracked a brief grin. "No, no, it's not that easy," he said patiently. "This is not just some quick walk-through. It's more of a… process."

"Oh," she answered, not quite sure exactly what he meant by that. "Well, alright."

Gibbs glanced over at her, then looked down at her pack. "You got gloves in there?"

"Of course," Emily retorted incredulously. "You_ never_ go to a crime scene without wearing gloves."

This time she was treated to an actual smile from him, along with an appreciative nod. "Good. You just got Rule number Two."

Any more conversation about rules was halted as they pulled to a stop close to a stretch of yellow police tape. The second car arrived right behind them. Everyone exited their vehicles, and began gearing up.

Emily opened up her pack and pulled out her camera. She reached back into the bag and as she pulled out her gloves, a frightening foreign object came out with them. Her eyes went wide and she jumped back, letting out a shrill yelp, dropping everything and immediately reached for her gun.

Everyone looked up quickly and focused solely on her as she stood staring down at the ground, hand on her side-arm, breathing rapidly. There at her feet lay a brightly colored rubber snake, and a broken camera lens.

DiNozzo couldn't help it, he muffled a giggle.

"Oh, Tony," said McGee under his breath. "You didn't."

"Mmm," chimed in Ziva softly. "Yes, he did."

Emily was immediately embarrassed, and quite annoyed with herself for reacting so dramatically to such a childish prank. But quickly reigning herself in, she relaxed and took her hand off her weapon. She looked over, and saw Tony smiling broadly, look of elfen mischief plastered on his face.

"Everything alright there… Agent McLaren?" Tony quipped.

She smiled sweetly, and looked down at the ground, slowly nodding. Then she leaned down and picked up the broken camera and the toy snake. Then, drawing herself up to her full military bearing, she maintained an amused looking smile as she walked purposefully over and stood right in front of Tony. Gibbs was standing right beside Tony, not two feet away, watching.

She held up the offending rubber reptile in front of Tony's face. "Yours?" She asked, the mock grin on her face.

"It was just a joke…" Tony replied with a jovial grin. "You uh… you do have a sense of humor, right?"

"Who me?" She answered, her smile fading completely and her eyes narrowing and darkening, in direct and frightening contrast to the words that she spoke. "Oh, I have a wonderful sense of humor."

She looked down for a moment and dropped the rubber snake into his pack. She looked back up at him, eyes boring like lasers into his. Tony became immediately concerned.

"You know, messing around with me in the office is one thing. But out here, in the field, a whole different story," She said acidly. "There's a _dead Marine_ over there. And I find your willingness to potentially compromise a crime scene as unprofessional as it is disrespectful. So, _Senior Field Agent_ DiNozzo. How about you focus your efforts on doing your job, instead of wasting everyone's time trying to screw around with mine?"

"I… I um…" Tony stammered. "Sorry…"

She stooped down and put the broken camera on the ground, then forcefully yanked _his_ camera out of his pack.

"I'm borrowing your camera," she said seriously. "Until you have a chance to fix mine."

"Yes Ma'am," Tony answered chagrined. "Not a problem."

Emily turned and went back to her pack, and retrieved her gloves from the ground where she had dropped them, and stuffed them into a side pocket of her pack. She then pulled out a fresh, sterile pair and carefully snapped them on.

Tony cautiously looked over at Gibbs, who gave him a stern look in return.

"You heard the lady, DiNozzo," his boss said matter-of-factly. "Get to work."

"On it Boss," Tony said and gladly hurried off.

Ziva and McGee looked at each other and raised their eyebrows, impressed.

"Oh, I like her. I_ really_ like her," Ziva said quietly as they all walked towards the scene.

_Damn. So do I,_ Gibbs thought to himself silently.

He was impressed with how she had just handled that situation. Couldn't have done it better himself. He was very impressed indeed.


	8. Chapter 8 Abby and Emmy

Chapter 8 Abby and Emmy

After the snarky prank with the rubber snake, the crime scene itself was then processed with exaggerated professionalism. Even so, Emily functioned under the full, careful but completely silent supervision of one Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Emily was meticulously careful in her protocol, knowing full well that any mistake made here, however small or large, could potentially make or break a case somewhere down the road. Everything done here and now could have far-reaching consequences. So she integrated herself with the others, following their lead and working alongside. It was clear that she was strong and fiercely independent, but that she also saw the value and importance of working as a team.

Gibbs found himself watching her, sometimes rather intently. He was impressed with her demeanor. She handled herself smartly, and he was continually impressed with her calmness, her focus, and her attention to detail.

He also happened to note the smooth grace with which she moved. He barely knew her, but he was already feeling a powerful attraction. He had to force himself to tear his eyes away and re-focus on the case. He walked over to the body as he saw the Medical Examiner's truck approach and roll to a stop.

The dead Marine had been shot twice in the chest, and after a full canvass of the area, it was apparent that the killer had apparently policed his brass.

Gibbs sighed heavily at the lack of hard evidence at the scene. Once again, it would be up to the ME's office and the collection and analysis of forensics that would be the guiding force in solving this case.

Upon his arrival at the scene, Dr. Mallard was only too pleased to meet the attractive and enigmatic Agent McLaren, and within minutes, he took an immediate liking to her.

After some brief conversations about a rather obvious cause of death, both Ducky and Mr. Palmer agreed that the probable time of death had been somewhere around 3 or 4 AM that morning. The body was then carefully loaded and taken back to the yard.

"I'll get the bullets to Abby post-haste Jethro," Duck commented as the van's doors were slammed shut.

LJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJG

The elevator dinged and Gibbs exited it swiftly, the large plastic cup of Caf-Pow in hand… Emily was right behind him.

Emily had been with her Boss and had watched him carefully feed the required coins into the finicky dispensing machine, curious that someone like him would be hooked on such a bizarre drink…

There was some sort of heavy-beat techno-music almost blaring as the two of them entered the lab.

"Abs!" Gibbs nearly hollered.

Abby turned and flashed a brilliant smile. Never breaking her gaze with Gibbs, she quickly snatched up the remote and clicked down the volume. Still, she seemed absolutely wired.

"OK, Gibbs," she said, nearly bouncing on her feet. "I got something for ya… but first, you gotta give me just a second…"

Before Gibbs could respond, Abby turned away from him and actually bounded across the room. She took a deep breath and launched herself towards the woman behind Gibbs.

"Emmmieeeeeeeee!" Abby shrieked. The petite scientist launched herself and all but _attacked_ the woman. She clamped her arms around the poor woman's neck, and there was an audible 'UMPH' heard as Abby's feet left the floor and she had this newbie woman in a massive, full-body bear hug.

Emily stumbled backwards a couple of steps, absorbing the momentum of the friendly assault. Finally, with the weight of her friend's limbs clinging to her, she smiled and patted her Gothie friends back.

"Hi sweetie," Emily said, her verbal sounds muffled against a black-clad shoulder as she heartily patted the back of the leather-clad form that had suddenly plastered itself to her.

Gibbs watched in curious fascination. "I take it you two know each other," he said finally.

Abby finally released her exuberant bear hug and stepped back, the glanced at Gibbs and began chattering excitedly. "Oh, yeah. Emmy and I met at a Habitat for Humanity Charity Marathon a few years ago. She was one of the runners, I was one of the cheerleaders. We found out that we share the same taste in music."

Abby turned back to Emily. "So, you still run to Death Cherub 9 and Neon Virus? When's your next marathon? Oh my God, I haven't talked to you in so long!"

"I'm training for the Citadel Marathon this fall, and actually, yeah. I could really use some new stuff," Emily said smiling.

"You got it," Abby beamed. "I'll burn you some kickin' tracks that will have you smoking down the pavement!"

"Thanks…" Emily said.

"Abs," Gibbs interrupted. "Ballistics?"

Abby composed herself and nodded. "Right," she said, pointing both hands towards her computer display. "Right this way." She happily took the Caf-Pow from Gibbs and slurped up a big gulp of it.

"Ducky got both rounds from the vic, but they were both pretty damaged," she said, tapping away at the keyboard. "Small caliber, 22 maybe. I'm working on a 3D recreation and running what I do have through IBIS, NIBIN and every other ballistic database out there. So far, no hits. But one thing I found odd was a bit of trace Ducky found around the actual entry wound. It's some kind of exotic bird dander, very dense, and not very common. My guess is, the killer used some kind of pillow as a silencer. A very expensive pillow. I'll keep tracking that down and let you know when I get anything."

"Thanks, Abs," Gibbs said before turning to leave. Emily followed him, but turned to quickly glance back at Abby, who quickly signed to her '_Glad you're here_,' to which Emily signed back a quick '_thank you, me too,_' with a bright smile.

Gibbs stood quietly in the elevator for a few seconds. "Death Cherub?" he ventured.

"Yeah," Emily answered sheepishly. "Thrashy, techno music. Keeps me going." Gibbs looked at her with puzzled curiosity.

"Well, if you ever_ heard_ Death Cherub 9," she added. "You'd probably run too."

Gibbs huffed, shaking his head. "You're a rare one… McLaren."

Emily nearly blushed at the compliment. Although it had only been a short time so far, she was feeling very pleased with the prospect of sticking close to this man, hopefully for quite a while. She already admired him, and definitely respected him. She just had to make sure she kept her libido in check. This glorious silver fox was such an incredibly attractive man… that lean powerful frame, those stellar blue eyes…

But there was one attribute about him that she seemed particularly drawn to… his hands. He had absolutely gorgeous hands. Whether he was holding a pen, a cup of coffee, or a gun… she adored his hands. They were strong, but gentle. Firm, but tender…

She had to mentally shake herself out of those thoughts and push them away for a later time…

Those magnificent hands could be a source of many a delectable fantasy…


	9. Ch9 Its NOT a Date

Chapter 9 It' NOT a date

Gibbs stood in front of the vending machine in the break room, trying to make up his mind which of the brightly colored packages he wanted, when he was suddenly aware of a presence behind him.

He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Over this past week, he and Agent McLaren had been working closely together every single day. And every day she either did or said something that managed to impress the hell out of him. He had to admit that he was actually delighted to have her on board.

She had already been readily accepted by the rest of the team, and the good-natured bantering that bounced around the group in the mornings always made him smile inside, even though he never participated in it.

And he also could not deny that there was definitely an attraction between himself and the new redheaded Agent. A very powerful one. He was pretty sure that she felt it too, he had caught her gazing at him more than a few times, and saw the look she gave him, held in her dazzling green eyes, before she would look away. It worried him a bit, but he was determined to stick to his rules and keep their relationship on a business-only level.

He punched a button on the machine and an ancient, plastic-wrapped cinnamon roll fell from the rack. He retrieved it and began to unwrap it.

"Oh, Agent Gibbs. Don't tell me you're actually going to eat _that_ for breakfast," he heard her now-familiar voice pleasantly chiding him from behind.

He turned around to face her as he chomped off a huge bite of the frosted pastry.

"Okay," he said, carefully forming the words with his mouth full of food. "I won't tell you that."

"You know, breakfast is the most important meal of the day." She replied, grinning.

Gibbs gulped down the mouthful of food. "My Mom used to say that," he told her.

"Hmm. Smart Lady."

Emily stood there for a moment, and the two of them looked at each other. Her green eyes began to sparkle…

"You looking for something, Agent McLaren?" He finally asked.

"You," she replied, then paused. Gibbs was about to take another bite of his cinnamon roll, but stopped.

"I wanted to ask you if you would help me with something," she added.

"Help you?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. "With what?"

She paused again before changing tactics. "Do you like sailboats?" She queried, taking a few steps closer to him.

"Yeah," he replied non-comittally.

"Do you… actually know how to sail?" She asked honestly.

He paused, eyes briefly narrowing. He finally answered, "As a matter of fact, I do."

"That's perfect," she continued pleasantly. "I live aboard a 45-foot Morgan ketch. The anchor chain keeps jamming in the windlass, and I need to get it fixed. I found a shop down in Harper's Bay that can fix it in a couple of hours, but they can't come to me. I need to take the boat to them, this Saturday. Now, she's rigged for me to sail her single-hand, if I have to. But it would sure be a lot nicer, and a lot safer, to have another hand aboard."

Gibbs studied her, but did not respond. His mind began racing…

"So, what do you say? You want to go sailing with me Saturday?" She asked. "I'll even buy you lunch."

Her green eyes sparkled with hidden intent as she looked at him. He allowed himself to briefly entertain the thought. He was flattered by the invitation, especially from such an incredibly beautiful and intriguing woman. And a chance to sail? How long had it been since he was out on the water? If it were anyone else offering, he would have jumped at the chance in a heartbeat. But the rational part of his brain starting ringing those damn alarm bells. He knew what he _wanted_ to say… but he also knew what he _should_ say.

"I appreciate the offer, McLaren," he said sincerely. "I really do. I'm flattered. But… it's against the rules."

"You… have rules against… sailing?" She asked incredulously.

He paused, her dancing green eyes riveted to his. God, he could get lost in those eyes…

"No, not sailing. Rule number 12," he said firmly. "Never date a co-worker."

Her sparkling gaze never wavered. She slowly grinned, then nodded. "Hmm. That sounds like it would be a pretty smart rule," she said, stepping even closer. He stood his ground.

"But, it doesn't apply," she added.

He gave her a questioning look.

"I am simply requesting assistance from a fellow sailor in getting an injured vessel into a port for needed repairs," she explained, her eyes still glued to his. "Strictly in the interest of maritime safety. Therefore, it is _not_ a date. Ergo, your rule does not apply."

Gibbs eyes narrowed again. "You ever been a lawyer?"

She broke his gaze and looked down, giving a brief but genuine laugh. "Oh, God no. Never that."

She looked back up at him, her eyes searching his. "So. You gonna help me out?"

The two held each other's gaze for several minutes, in total silence. Gibbs hoped that the mighty internal war he was waging within himself was not at all visible to her… And he was apparently successful, as Emily found his silent expression to be completely unreadable.

Finally, Emily was the one to break the super-charged tension. She looked down and sighed heavily.

"OK, alright," she said, sounding disappointed. "Never mind…" she sighed again and put her hands up in front of her. "Look, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I'll take her in myself. Let's just… forget I asked." She turned and began to walk away.

He knew he should have let her keep going. He should just let her walk away... He should have… But for some unknown and irrational reason, he couldn't… _Damn it…_

"Did you hear me say no… McLaren?" He blurted out.

Emily stopped and turned back to face him. "No…" she said, tilting her head with a puzzled expression. "But I didn't hear you say 'I'd love to' either."

Gibbs hesitated, then made his irrevocable decision. He took the plunge.

"I'd love to," he said plainly.

The red-head responded with a dazzling mega-watt smile.

"That's great!" She beamed. "I'm docked here in the Yard. South Marina. Bravo Docks. Slip 23," she rattled off. "Saturday, oh-eight-hundred?"

"I'll be there," Gibbs said nodding.

She smiled again, then turned and strode off, heading back towards the squad room. She had to make a concerted effort not to skip down the hallway…

Gibbs stood in the break room, quietly absorbing what had just transpired_. I hope you know what the hell you're doing… _he thought to himself.

_**A/N: Hope you're all enjoying the journey so far! Please send along your feedback… it's genuinely appreciated, and I thrive on it! Thanks for reading!**_


	10. Ch10 Aboard The LAYLA

Chapter 7: Aboard The '_Layla'_

Bright and early the next morning, Gibbs found the Bravo docks easily enough and strode down to slip 23. He spotted the slip number and got his first sight of Emily McLaren's floating home. The '_Layla'_ was breathtaking. She was not just some dock-bound casual live-aboard. This was a serious ocean-going sailing yacht. And preparations had already begun for their journey today… He saw that the shore power had already been disconnected; the thick power wires and water supply hoses were all neatly coiled on the edge of the dock.

Before going any further, he stopped for a moment and admired the boat itself. All 45 gorgeous feet of her. She had elegant and graceful lines, a proud classic bow and plenty of freeboard. She was sleek, with a generous amount of teak deck boards, all of which were stained a deep chestnut color, and all the bright work gleamed and sparkled. Everything aboard was lashed down and stowed neatly… all the lines and extra rigging bundled, wrapped and pinned. He was impressed, this beautiful boat was very well taken care of.

A retractable bimini made of sturdy burgundy canvas covered the helm station at the far aft of the vessel, with clear zippered curtains that went all the way down and attached to the decking, making a nice cozy wheelhouse-style enclosure for either sunshade or foul weather protection. For today, all the side curtains had been rolled up and were firmly secured with small bungee cords. A large Danforth anchor hung snugged up below the bowsprit, attached to a good rode of sturdy anchor chain that disappeared into the remote controlled windlass mounted on the foredeck, making it easy to weigh anchor from the helm station with the push of a button… At least, that was how it was supposed to work, but this was reportedly the offending piece of equipment that was to be repaired today, down in Harper's Bay…

He shielded his eyes with one hand and looked up at the towering twin masts. The rigging lines softly whistled and twanged in the light breeze, and he could see auto-furling gear on both of the massive spires. He also spied a small Faruno radar pod high up on the forward main mast. He then noticed several small little bright orange ribbons attached to the rigging lines in various strategic locations, and watched them squiggling in the light breeze. He recognized them immediately, and couldn't keep a knowing grin from curling across his lips.

_Tell-tales_… He knew exactly what they were. Those tiny little ribbons were small, whisper-thin tendrils of light nylon fabric that both sailors and snipers were equally quite familiar with, and also very dependent upon. Designed to reveal every subtle nuance of Mother Nature's ever-changing air currents in real-time.

Gibbs recalled Emily saying that she had this boat rigged for single-hand sailing… and it was certainly evident. He had no doubt that she could do it, but with a vessel this size it could be rather challenging.

He was honored to have been invited along. He was definitely looking forward to getting out on the water and seeing what this beautiful vessel could do. It had been far too long since he had been out here, dancing with the wind, feeling the salty splash as the bow sliced through the sea… He could hardly contain himself at the prospect of what the day held in store.

Not to mention the fact that this amazing boat also had an equally beautiful Captain. He already admired and respected her. And he knew that there was definitely a powerful attraction…

_Knock it off… _he chided himself. _This is not a date…_

As if on cue, the companionway doors slid open and Emily stepped out onto the deck wearing beige deck shoes, crisp white shorts, and a pale blue button-down stay-dry shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her light auburn hair was pulled into a gentle ponytail, but several defiant strands had already let loose. An expensive looking pair of blue mirrored lens sunglasses was perched atop her head, keeping the loose tendrils of hair somewhat at bay for the moment. She laid a large chart book down on the deck table before she turned and noticed him standing there.

"Hey there. Good Morning," she said cheerfully. She was wearing a chunky silver wrist watch, definitely a men's style. It looked well-worn, and had a dark blue metallic face. She tilted her wrist and checked it, then looked back at him with a smile. "You're right on time."

Gibbs grinned. "Habit," he said warmly. "Permission to come aboard?"

Emily gave a light laugh. "Granted," she said, still smiling. "And from now on, you don't need to ask."

"She's quite a beautiful boat," Gibbs said appreciatively as he stepped aboard.

"Thanks," Emily replied. "She's my baby. Wherever she is, I'm home. C'mon. Let me show you around."

She gave him a quick tour around the top deck, showing him where things were stowed, all the gear and sail lockers, fenders and extra lines, ground tackle, flare gun, life jackets, and first aid kit. Then gave him a briefing on everything at the helm station: First going over the state-of-the-art GPS NAV system and the fully coupled hydraulic self-steering gear, and finishing with the full color radar scope. Gibbs quietly followed Emily around and absorbed everything, getting comfortable and familiar with the lovely _Layla. _They ended up back at the deck table.

"Here's where we're going," she said, pointing to a spot on the oversized waterproof chart. "South end of Harper's Bay. Winds today are gonna be out of the East at about 8 to 10 knots. Should make for an easy sail. I plan to run the main sheet, and hoist a Genny. Then balance the helm with a working sail on the aft mizzen. Nothing complicated. She only drafts 6 feet, so there'll be plenty of water under her keel the whole route. Figured we can have lunch on-board while the guys work on the windlass, then head back the same way. Depending on how long the repairs take, we should be back just before sunset."

"Sounds like a plan," Gibbs responded, smiling. He was absolutely chomping at the bit to get out on the water, but he was also really enjoying the full tour of the boat. Emily also seemed delighted to have someone so attentive and interested to show off her nautical home to.

"That takes care of everything topside," Emily offered. "Let me show you around down below, and we can get underway."

Gibbs nodded and followed her through the companionway. The main salon was quite comfortable, the boat's design making efficient usage of every square inch. Although not overly broad-beamed, there was plenty of room to move around, and there was none of the tight, claustrophobic feeling that some other boats could have. A comfortable L-shaped sofa curled around a large wooden pillar table which dominated the main salon. Another matching small sofa and chair sat comfortably across from it. Looking around, Gibbs noticed several wooden rails and inset cup holders in all the appropriate places. Mounted up on the starboard wall was a moderate-sized flat screen TV, and a small surround-sound system. The galley sported a four-burner cooktop, a small oven, and a wall-mounted convection microwave. Multiple rows of expensive-looking crystal stemware hung neatly upside down in polished brass rails, sparkling and reflecting the warm interior light.

The whole interior was done in rich, heavy wood tones with accents of brass and steel, and the same dedicated organization applied here as well. Everything was in its place and well-secured. A very heavy antique-looking barometer hung prominently on one wall, mounted on a thick chunky piece of very weathered wood. Its large, thick glass covered dial showed the temperature, pressure and humidity readings precisely with its ornate scrolled golden hands. The other wall held a montage of several personal photos. Some showed just Emily, in full desert camouflage combat gear. A few others were candid photos snapped of other soldiers; some men, some women.

The last thing taking up the entire rest of the available wall was a large framed color poster of a huge whale tail disappearing into a deep blue ocean.

His eyes continued methodically summarizing the room, and that's when Gibbs noticed the woodwork. It was stunningly beautiful. He reached out and slowly traced a finger along a stretch of an expertly carved wooden rail… feeling the grain, the subtle variances in the carvings… nearly mesmerized by it…

"That's black walnut," Emily offered. "I've got some mahogany pieces in the forward berth. Stuff is gorgeous, but God, it's a real bear to work with. Like carving wrought iron."

Breaking his brief reverie, he looked at her, surprised.

"_You_ did this?" He asked.

"Yeah," she answered matter-of-factly. "I love hand-carved wood. I did just about all the woodwork in here myself. Let me tell you, this old girl didn't look _anything_ like this when I first got her. Can't believe it's been so many years ago… Anyway, it's been kind of a labor of love… as well as making her a great place to live. She's rock solid dependable…" Emily added, looking around fondly. "She's always taken very good care of me."

"Looks like you've taken pretty good care of each other," Gibbs replied, sincere in the compliment.

"Yeah… I guess we have," Emily smiled back, her green eyes sparkling. She held his gaze for a moment, then continued the tour, opening all the various latched doors, including the main Captain's berth, which was the nautical equivalent of a home's master bedroom.

Positioned up in the far forward bow of the boat, it was the most spacious of all the rooms on board, and it was her very personal domain. The generously comfortable room held many more feminine touches than the rest of the boat, and much softer lighting. Soft gauzy curtains covered the port-hole windows, and well-secured candles and small strands of sparkling crystal beads were scattered around the room. Sitting center stage was a rather large and thickly stuffed bed, covered with a huge hand-made quilt that draped all the way to the floor, tastefully embroidered with stars and anchors.

Glossing over all the pointedly feminine aspects, Emily quietly pointed out the woodwork she had done, and Gibbs marveled at it. The delicately carved scrolls and patterns in the richly finished mahogany was even more impressive than the walnut work in the main salon. Absolutely exquisite.

They finished the tour with a perusal of all the master control switches at the main radio console, which also had a twin GPS system and radar display screen just like the main helm.

"God forbid we ever need it, but if anything ever goes totally wrong, all the emergency frequencies are written down right here," she pointed to a printed card next to the massive array of electronics.

She paused and looked around. "Well, I think that pretty much covers everything. Any questions?"

"Nope," Gibbs answered with a comfortable, satisfied grin. "Very thorough briefing, Captain."

She flashed a beaming smile.

"Thanks. So… you ready to go?" She asked.

"Yep," Gibbs nodded and they both headed back topside.

Once out on deck, Emily paused for a moment, and looked around briefly.

"Hang on a sec," she said. She quickly slipped two fingertips between her lips and huffed out a short but ear-splitting whistle. "Samson!" She shouted.

Gibbs looked and saw a flash of black fur tear around a corner and come flying down the dock at full tilt.

"Come on Sammy," Emily called. "Get your fuzzy little butt on board."

The little curly haired dog leapt onto the port side deck of the boat, tail wagging wildly.

"That's Samson," Emily said to Gibbs. The little black dog was maybe 12 pounds, with an adorable friendly face. The cute furball immediately came over and investigated the new male on board, and within seconds was happily licking Gibbs extended hand. "My vicious guard dog," Emily added with a chuckle.

"Yo, Samson," Emily said, snapping her fingers. "Get below. Go on." The little dog obeyed and quickly disappeared through a small doggie door installed in the companionway.

"Let's get out on the water," Emily asked as she slipped behind the big ships wheel at the helm. "Wanna get the bow lines?"

"Sure," he answered, and nimbly made his way to the front of the boat.

She watched as he deftly undid the lines from their cleats, then skillfully snapped them taut before releasing them, causing them to whip up and land on the forward dock, perfectly positioned for easy retrieval when they returned. She was impressed already. Clearly he _did_ know his way around a sailboat, and obviously knew what he was doing. How incredibly refreshing… This was shaping up to be a wonderful day…

Emily fired up the inboard engine and loosed the stern lines.

"Bow's free," Gibbs called back.

"Stern's free," she replied, "I have the helm. Leaving the dock."

Emily clicked the engine into Reverse and slowly backed the stately vessel from her slip, expertly maneuvering the big sailing yacht with practiced familiarity. As soon as the bow was clear, she dropped it into Forward, slipped on her sunglasses, and headed for the channel exit from the Marina.

Once they were clear of the Marina markers and out into open water, the decision was quickly made to switch to pure wind power.

Emily began issuing gentle directives, which Gibbs then responded to both quickly and efficiently. She admired how smoothly he moved around the deck, his lean muscular frame coordinated in perfect sync with the rhythm of their sail.

Their communication quickly became both easy and comfortable; the two of them working together like a well-oiled machine. Before long, they were footing along rather nicely in the gentle breeze, both enjoying themselves more immensely than they ever could have imagined…

Way too soon, the channel buoys marking the entrance into Harper's Bay came into view, and the glorious morning's sail was hauled down as Emily pushed a button and the big yacht's motor power quietly rumbled to life…

_**A/N: This is such an integral part of this story and had so much going on, I had to break this up into more than one chapter… Fear Not! The rest is coming along very shortly! Sincerest thanks for all the fabulous reviews… I truly appreciate them! Thanks for reading!**_


	11. Ch11 Harper's Bay

Chapter 11 Harper's Bay

As they motored through Harper's Bay, Emily was delighted that Gibbs genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself. She had been able to watch him during their entire sailing trip here, her hungry gaze safely hidden behind her mirrored shades. Admiring the athletic grace with which he moved around the boat, his strong muscular arms working the lines and winches, keeping the sheets trimmed perfectly, not too slack, not too tight. And those wonderful hands of his… God, she loved those hands…

She shook her head and refocused on her Captain's duties, and hailed the repair shop on the marine radio as they got closer to the shore. She expertly maneuvered the big boat and within minutes they were snugged against the dock and securely tied off. Three guys in gray uniforms boarded and headed for the bow, getting to work on the malfunctioning windlass straightaway.

Emily shut down the engine and powered down all the helm electronics.

"How about some lunch?" She asked Gibbs.

"Sounds great," he replied, smiling.

Emily perched her sunglasses up on top of her head and headed below. A few minutes later, she emerged from the companionway carrying a tray with two large French bread sandwiches and two cans of soda. Samson, the little black dog, followed her up onto the deck and looked around, sniffed the air, and apparently not seeing anything overly interesting, disappeared back below.

She set the tray of food down on the deck table and they both sat down.

"Hope you're hungry," she said smiling.

"I was born hungry," Gibbs replied with a sideways grin.

"I brought you a soda," Em added. "Hope you don't mind, all I have is diet."

"That's fine," Gibbs replied. He picked up his sandwich and chomped off a big bite. "Wow," he said, chewing away and looking down at the large sandwich in his hands. "This is great… what's in here?"

Emily grinned. "Slow-roasted pork tenderloin, with caramelized onions and red peppers, along with some smoked swiss cheese, baby spinach, heirloom tomatoes, and a spicy mustard."

"Oh, you have got to tell me where you got these…" Gibbs said, tearing off another large bite.

Emily smiled widely as she took a much smaller bite of her own massive sandwich. "I made them," she answered. She saw him nearly stop chewing for a moment, and give her a quizzical look.

"I also love to cook," Emily shrugged. "I'm glad you like it."

Gibbs tore off yet another bite, then took a swig of his soda. "Like it? Are you kidding? _This_… is delicious. I'm telling you McLaren… You could _sell_ these… you'd make a fortune."

Emily giggled lightly, then things got quiet as they both continued to eat their delectable lunch.

"You know, we're not at work," she ventured gently. "You can call me Emily."

Gibbs looked up at her, and saw her soft green eyes holding nothing but open honesty. He nodded slightly and swallowed the food in his mouth.

"Emily." He replied.

She smiled at hearing her name being spoken by him, and quickly averted her eyes back down to her sandwich.

Gibbs took another long slog of his soda. He was quiet for a few moments, gazing down at the food in his hands.

He looked back up at her.

"Jethro," he said simply.

He was rewarded with a dazzling warm smile from her. He knew he shouldn't be flirting like this, but he couldn't help it. Being here with her, it just felt _right_. He was surprised at how comfortable he was. He chalked it up to the sailing. It had been ages since he had spent a day out on the water, and he was thoroughly enjoying every minute…

Like she was reading his mind, Emily broke his quiet reverie. "You're quite the capable sailor," she said, laying her sandwich down. "It's so nice to have someone along who actually knows what they're doing, and really enjoying it. It's refreshing."

"Thank you," Gibbs replied. "Your ex didn't sail?"

Emily huffed. "Who Kevin? Oh, God no," she laughed. "Major league motion sickness. Poor guy couldn't even sit on the _dock_ for five minutes without hurling his lunch. So no. He didn't come along. Which is why I rigged her out for single-hand. If it's really blowing, things can get pretty busy… but it's nothing I can't handle."

Gibbs grinned. "Oh, I don't doubt that for a second. You're quite the capable Captain."

She smiled, and their eyes locked onto each other. The bright sunshine reflecting off the water made his eyes a crystal sky blue color. His wind-tussled silver hair gave her the urge to want to reach out and smooth her fingers through it.

Emily was just about to say something when they were interrupted by a workman who ventured back to them from the bow. "Miss McLaren? You're all set Ma'am." He said, as the other two uniformed gentlemen left the boat.

"Wow, that was fast," Emily said, a little disappointed that the work had gone so quickly.

"Yeah, easy fix. Common problem with this brand. See it all the time. We realigned your main drum and adjusted the tension. You shouldn't have any more problems with it." The paperwork and payment was handled promptly and the man turned to leave. "Oh, and feel free to take your time, Ma'am. Please, finish your lunch. There's no rush."

"Thank you," smiled Emily. "I appreciate that."

"Yes Ma'am," the man nodded. "Have a good day."

Emily sat back down, but the magical moment that had captivated them just a few minutes earlier was gone. She had barely touched her lunch, while Gibbs was nearly done devouring his. She laughed lightly.

"I guess you _were_ hungry," she chided pleasantly. "Am I working you too hard?"

"Nope," Gibbs answered smiling. "Enjoying it."

Emily thought for a moment, pushed her sandwich out of the way, then reached over a pulled up the big nautical chart and laid it on the table.

"You know, since we have some extra time," she said thoughtfully. "We could take a different route back. Spend a little more time under sail." She traced a finger along the chart. "Here, what about this?"

Gibbs moved around and sat close beside her. They huddled over the chart, shoulder to shoulder. "We could take the long way around Lincoln Point," she continued. "Then make this quick run downwind before catching the channel back to the Yard."

She looked over at him, and watched his eyes study the chart. She noticed that he didn't wear cologne. But his clothes now held the crisp scent of salty sea air and sunshine. It was intoxicating.

"What do you think?" She asked. "Sound like fun?"

He turned to look at her, their faces inches apart. "Sure does."

They held each other's gaze for a few more minutes, the electricity in the air almost crackling.

"We should go…" Emily finally said, her voice whisper soft.

"I'll get the bow," he said, his voice deep and low.

Emily took a deep breath as the cleared the table. Then she reclaimed her position at the helm and fired up the big yacht. A short time later, they were once again under full sail, smiling and laughing, slicing through the beep blue water and having an absolutely wonderful time.

And again, all too soon, the outer marker buoys for the Naval Yard came into view in the distance, and Gibbs found himself feeling rather melancholy that this incredibly amazing day was coming to an end.

The sun was slipping lower and lower on the horizon as they motored their way towards the Marina, the sky painted in shades of brilliant oranges and purples. Gibbs stopped and stood still, wrapped a hand around one of the rigging lines and looked out over the bow. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, trying to remember the last time he had felt so comfortable and relaxed… and had so thoroughly enjoyed himself. _Years…_ he thought. _It's been years…_ And he knew he had Emily McLaren to thank for such a magnificent gift. _Emily…_

He turned and looked back at her. She was a breathtaking vision, standing confidently at the helm, loose tendrils of soft red hair fluttering in the light breeze and brushing her shoulders. She looked over at him, and he was once again captivated by those sparkling emerald eyes.

He knew she had been watching him all day, he could feel it. Now, she was no longer hiding her gaze behind those sunglasses. She smiled softly at him before forcing her attention back to navigating the _Layla_ back to her home port… heading for slip 23…

_**A/N: Okay folks, fasten your seat belts… Things are gonna start warming up here real soon... and this story will change to an M rating… As always, I would appreciate any and all reviews… I love the feedback! Thanks for reading, and stay tuned!**_


	12. Ch12 Just Say Goodnight

Chapter 12: Just Say Goodnight

Emily expertly navigated the _Layla_ through the marina, and within minutes they were docked and tied up in slip 23. The shore power and water hoses were reconnected. Emily flipped a few switches, and in addition to the topside lights, the boat was glowing with soft amber light from below.

"Jethro," Emily called to him as he was adjusting a starboard side dock line. He turned his attention to her, liking the sound of her lovely voice saying his name.

"I have a tradition," she continued. "After every successful sail, Captain and crew drink a toast to the day's good journey. What do you like to drink?"

_You shouldn't…_ he brain yelled at him, causing him not to answer her right away. _You should just say goodnight and go…_

"Oh, come on. After such a wonderful day on the water, you don't want to anger the Sea Gods _now_ do you?" She asked playfully. "I'm very superstitious about this stuff. And I have a great bottle of Merlot just screaming to be opened."

"Alright," Gibbs finally answered, ignoring his own self-talk.

"Great! I'll be right back," she said with a beaming smile, and disappeared below.

She returned with a bottle and two wine glasses just as he was sitting down at the small deck table where they had enjoyed their delicious lunch. Emily poured and handed him his glass before pouring her own and sitting down as well. She pulled the elastic band from her head and shook her hair free, the red wind-tossed locks falling in waves. Gibbs' eyes were riveted to the sight. He was so captivated by that simple act that he nearly dropped his glass on the deck.

She settled into her seat, then held up her glass towards him. "To fair winds and calm seas," she said.

"And capable Captains," Gibbs added, recovering.

"And capable sailors," Emily also added before they clinked glasses.

As he sipped his wine, Gibbs looked around and some movement caught his eye. Samson had once again emerged from the companionway and wandered up to the bow and sat down, quietly surveying the docks. "So, where'd you pick up that little guy?" He asked, pointing to the little black dog.

Emily chuckled. "A gift from my ex," she said almost ruefully. "Lost story short, we had a big argument one day and I complained about him being gone all the time. I said I was lonely. Two days later, this little furball is delivered to the front door with a big red bow around his neck and a note that said 'to keep you company'." She paused, shaking her head. "Gee, thanks honey_,"_ she repeated mockingly. "But that was NOT the kind of lonely I was talking about. Although ironically… he really _does_ keep me company."

Gibbs smiled, nodded, and sipped some more of his wine.

"You ever been married?" Emily asked him.

Now it was Gibbs turn to softly chuckle. "Yeah," he replied slowly, taking a deep breath and staring down at the deck before looking back up at her. "I currently have _three_ ex-wives."

Emily didn't respond right away. "Hmm," she said, non-committally as she thought about it for a minute. Then she smiled warmly at him. "Good," she said with a nod.

Gibbs gave her a perplexed look. "Ya know, you tell most women that you have three ex-wives, that's not the usual response. They usually get indignant and run for the hills."

"Yeah, well," Emily answered, tucking a strand of russet hair behind her ear. She looked at him and held his gaze. "I'm not very much like _most_ women. Never have been."

Seeing him quietly awaiting further explanation, she continued. "Okay, three ex's. It tells me that you're not afraid to commit. If you were, you never would've gotten married in the first place. To any of them. Things didn't work out. So you're still looking for something that you haven't found yet. And you're willing to keep trying. It just means to me that you haven't given up. And… yes. That's good."

Gibbs shook his head in disbelief and grinned.

"Sorry," Emily said, a little embarrassed. "Just a scary little insight there on how my brain works."

"No, not scary," Gibbs said, with a sparkle in his eyes. "Just… different."

Emily laughed, a gentle lilting laugh that lit up her eyes as well. "Different. Yeah, that's me."

They settled into a comfortable silence and sipped their wine, enjoying the gentle night's breeze drifting through the marina. Neither one really wanting the day's events to finally come to an end.

If she were any other woman, not only would he have kissed her senseless by now, but they would be well along into the task of peeling each other's clothes off. _But you're her boss..._ He reminded himself, yet again. _So just say good night and get your ass out of here before you do something stupid._

Gibbs cleared his throat and set his glass down. "You know, I really enjoyed myself today," he said honestly.

"So did I," she answered, smiling warmly. "We should do it again."

Gibbs looked at her, his own private silent war waging within himself. God, she was absolutely stunning. He briefly wished that she were NOT a member of his team… then he wouldn't have those damn self-imposed rules to contend with… _But rules can have exceptions, right? _He thought to himself. _You clearly want each other…_ _NCIS doesn't have a policy against it, why should you?_ His thoughts were racing a million miles an hour…

Emily saw the flash of turmoil in his eyes, and misunderstood it.

"Oh, I know, I know," she said quickly, cringing at the thought that she had just overstepped some invisible boundary. "NOT a date… not a date. I remember. You have rules."

"Yeah," he replied, almost sadly. Having the immediate decision made for him, Gibbs sighed and stood up, feeling more than a little disappointed.

"I really should go," he said. "Thank you for… everything."

"You're welcome," she answered warmly.

Gibbs walked over and stepped off the boat. He turned and began to head off down the dock.

"Jethro," he heard her gentle voice call to him. He stopped and turned around. She was sitting there, watching him leave. "Have a good night."

"You too, Emily," he replied. "Good night." Then he turned and headed for his car.

_**Note: Thanks so much for reading… hope you are all enjoying this journey! Some really good stuff is right around the corner here… Please shoot me a review… I thrive on feedback! -NiteJasmine**_


	13. Ch13 You Forgot Something

Chapter 13: You Forgot Something

Gibbs put the chisel down on the workbench and gingerly rubbed the back of his neck. He found himself yet again rotating his shoulders in an effort to dispel the tightness. He could feel the slight sore twinges in his muscles, brought about from the demands of being a deckhand aboard a 45 foot sailboat. But he wouldn't have traded it for the world. Although his body was physically tired, his mind was humming at full tilt, replaying over and over again the events of the glorious day spent on the water. He could not remember when he had so thoroughly enjoyed himself.

And he was equally perplexed about what to do about Emily McLaren. There was an undeniably powerful attraction between them, and he continuously found himself waging an internal battle with himself, his own deep wants and desires versus his life guiding rules. He was so jazzed up that sleep was out of the question. So he had come down here to his basement, his refuge, and tried to distract himself with his hand crafted wood. But it wasn't working very well. He just couldn't seem to get all the tumbling thoughts of Emily out of his head.

Then he heard an odd sound… _What the hell was that?_

He stopped, and listened intently. Upstairs… He focused his attention on the noise, grabbed his gun and nimbly headed up the stairs. As he crossed into the living room, he heard the noise again… and realized what it was. _Who the hell would be knocking on the front door? _Anyone whom he considered a friend knew that his front door was never locked, and they always just let themselves in and headed directly for the basement… He cautiously reached for the knob and opened the door. And was more than pleasantly surprised to see Emily McLaren standing there.

"Hi… again," she said softly.

"Hi," he replied, curious. He tucked his gun into his pocket, unseen by Emily.

"You, um… you left this on board, at the helm," she said, pulling something from her pocket and handing it to him. It was his cell phone.

As soon as he saw the phone, he remembered quickly putting it in one of the helm cup holders so he wouldn't chance dropping it overboard, although many times he wanted to throw the damn thing out the window himself.

"Thanks," he said, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Sorry you had to drive it to me."

"Oh, please, Jethro, you're not even 10 minutes from the yard," she replied dismissively. "Not a problem at all. Didn't want you to miss a call out or anything."

"Appreciate it," he said, then they stood there in awkward silence for a moment.

"Well… good night… again," Emily said as she turned to leave.

"You want to come in?" Gibbs asked, his blue eyes flashing a sparkle.

Emily wanted to leap through the door. But she stopped herself.

"I don't want to intrude," she said cautiously.

"You're not," Gibbs replied with a slight half smile.

"Okay," she beamed, and stepped across the threshold.

She stood still and looked around as Gibbs shut the door behind her. The house was old, but had great architectural lines. She thought the stained glass window by the front door was lovely. However once inside, the complete lack of any actual décor to speak of made it clear that a working bachelor lived here. Aside from a rather full bookshelf and a few things on the fireplace mantle, the place was pretty spartan.

Then she saw the wood… She looked up and saw the most elegant crown molding running along the ceiling.

"Oh, wow," she said appreciatively. "Look at that! That is gorgeous! Oh, that's gotta be one piece. You just don't see stuff like that anymore."

Gibbs was well aware of all the aged woodwork in his house, but he felt a certain inner pride that someone else appreciated it as much as he did. He settled for quietly leaning against the wall and listening to his new guest prattle on about it.

Emily kept her eyes glued to the ceiling, and moved further into the living room, completely distracted. She saw the low windows and all the deep stained wide wood trim around them.

"And these windows!" She gushed. "Oh my God… beautiful! Hey, is this place on the DC Historical Registry?"

Gibbs huffed and grinned. "No."

"Well, it should be," she answered, leaning over to get a closer inspection of a window. "I thought my boat had some great wood. But this… this is in a league all by itself. It's just, wow… it's just so… _you_."

Gibbs thought about that for a moment, genuinely flattered.

"Then I guess it's a good thing I live here," Gibbs finally answered, amused.

Emily finally got hold of herself, and stopped. She turned to look at him and her cheeks flushed with crimson.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed. "I guess I got a little carried away there for a minute…" She cleared her throat and composed herself. "You have a very lovely home, Jethro," she said rather formally.

Gibbs gave her an amused half grin.

"I didn't mean to go off on a tangent like that," she continued, shrugging. "But I do love gorgeous wood."

"Well, in that case," Gibbs said slowly, pushing himself away from the wall he was leaning against. "Come on. I got something to show ya."

He turned and waved his hand, motioning for her to follow him, as he headed for the basement door…

_**A/N: Sorry for the lengthy wait for the continuance here... hate it when life gets in the way of my creativity! But I'm back at the keyboard and got a lot of good stuff on the way! Appreciate any and all reviews... and thanks for reading! -NiteJasmine**_


	14. Ch14 The Basement

Chapter 14: The Basement

Emily followed Gibbs through the kitchen and saw him disappear around the corner. She heard him thump down the stairs and she turned to follow him, she got halfway down the staircase and turned to look at the room. She felt her breath catch in her throat and she halted in mid-step. She was vaguely aware that a breathy "Wow" had escaped her lips, but she was completely unaware that she had then left her mouth hanging open. She blinked her eyes several times, her brain trying to convince her that she really was seeing what she thought she was seeing. Her mind raced…

_A boat…_ _Yes… it's a boat. A sailboat… This man has… a SAILBOAT in the middle of his basement…_

Her eyes quickly travelled over the graceful lines. The beautiful little craft was rather small, but sturdy, and looked well-made and quite seaworthy. And the wood…. _Oh my God… the WOOD! _This lovely little sailboat was absolutely _gorgeous!_

Gibbs stopped at the bottom of the stairs when he heard her sharp intake of air. He turned around and couldn't stop himself from smiling at the sight of Emily McLaren, the strong unflappable Marine and capable Federal Agent, frozen in her tracks and gaping at a little sailboat like it was the discovery of King Tut's tomb. He also couldn't help but feel a little spike of heart-swelling pride that she was so taken with something he had made with his own two hands. Many a person had been fascinated with his boat-in-the-basement hobby, but no one had ever been so completely captivated by the actual boat itself… He wanted to bound back up the stairs and hug her…

"Emily?" He finally said gently, breaking her from her reverie. She looked down at him, her eyes still wide with wonder, and pointed at the wooden boat. "That's… that's a sailboat…" she stammered.

He nodded and flashed a half grin. "Yeah… it is," he replied matter-of-factly.

Emily was speechless as she recovered from her flustered state and finished traversing the rest of the stairs. "Wow," she breathed again as she reached the bottom of the stairs, eyes darting everywhere. Gibbs couldn't suppress a full-on grin from spreading across his face as he watched her.

She looked at him, her green eyes dancing with excitement as she pointed at the boat. "May I…?"

"Go right ahead," Gibbs nodded, sweeping a hand towards the little craft. "Nothing's off limits."

Emily launched herself towards the boat and immediately put her hand against the hull, almost reverently, before walking slowly towards the bow, trailing her fingertips along the waterline. She began touching and exploring every curve and nuance of the lovely sailboat like a kid in a candy store.

Gibbs sat back and watched her. The way she touched the boat… caressed it… He found his mind wandering down a forbidden path… towards more seductive thoughts… He silently wished that he could be a sailboat… If she were to touch him like that…

"Jethro?" Her voice jarred him out of his erotic daydream.

"Yeah," he answered, having to clear his throat to make his voice work.

She was up near the bow and peeked her head around the side of the boat, her eyes quizzical. "How're you gonna get this pretty little thing out of here?"

Gibbs smiled broadly and let out a deep throaty chuckle that made his eyes glimmer a brilliant blue.

Emily waited expectantly for his answer, but it didn't come.

"You want a drink?" He finally asked, still grinning. "All I got is bourbon."

"Sure," she said smiling, and walked over towards him.

Gibbs turned to a shelf and took down two small mason jars, and slogged a bit of bourbon into each one.

When he turned back, she was sitting on a small stool, leaning on the worktable, green eyes sparkling.

He handed her the small glass and she took a sip. She looked around the walls and various workbenches and made a remarkable observation. "Hey," she said, still looking around. "I don't see any power tools down here."

He sat down on the opposite side of the small worktable and shook his head. "Nope. Don't use 'em. Only power down here… is these," he set his glass down and held his hands up, quickly turning them back and forth, before settling back down and taking another sip of his bourbon.

He watched as Emily's eyes dropped down and focused on his hands, her eyes soft. She reached across the workbench and put over hand over his. Time seemed to stand still as she slowly turned his hand over, and then began tracing her fingertips across his sensitive skin, softly stroking across his palm and fingers with the same caressing reverence that she had given to his boat… Just with that simple soft touch, he felt his heart rate kick up into near double-time and had to work to keep his breathing under control.

"You have wonderful hands," Emily finally breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him, and he saw the desire in her lovely green eyes.

She held his gaze for a moment, then set her drink down and got up from the stool. She walked around the table and stood close to him.

"I don't do ultimatums or anything like that, so please don't take this as one," she said softly. She took a deep breath as she searched his gorgeous blue eyes for some clue of his thoughts… but he was once again completely unreadable. So she plowed on. "You are the most remarkable man I have ever met, and I have… wanted you… from the very first moment I saw you."

Gibbs didn't reply.

"But I don't want to make you uncomfortable, or jeopardize our working relationship, or compromise the team in any way," she paused again, still no response from Gibbs. "So I just would like to know if you… are at all interested in me… or if you just want me to do my job and leave you the hell alone..."

"I'm your boss," he interrupted, before she could say another word.

"Absolutely," she replied quickly. "When we're at work. In the field, on a case… any official capacity, absolutely. I have no problem whatsoever with that."

They gazed into each other's eyes in silence for a few moments, neither one wanting to break the spell. Finally, it was Gibbs that spoke. "I'm not the remarkable one… you are."

Emily smiled lovingly and brought her hand up, gently touching the side of his face. When he didn't pull away, she slowly leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a whisper soft kiss. Just when she began to pull back, he leaned towards her and captured her lips in another gentle kiss. Their mouths began to slowly open up to each other, tentatively exploring. Emily's arms wrapped around his neck, and Gibb's hands wound around her trim waist, both pulling the other closer and closer. They kissed like that for a while, sensuously, languidly, unhurried.

When they finally separated, they rested their foreheads together for a few minutes, basking in the feeling of closeness and warmth. When they separated a bit further, they gazed into each other's eyes.

"I do still want you to do your job though," Gibbs finally quipped with a grin.

Emily giggled and gave him a whimsical expression. "Well yeah, ya think?"

Gibbs gave her a broad grin, then stood up and gathered her into his arms. He leaned down and captured her mouth in another kiss, this one much more heated. He slid one hand up the back of her neck and wound his fingers into her soft russet hair. She returned his kiss with equal fervor, both lightly moaning into each other's mouth as she slid her hands under along the top edge of his jeans and caressing her spread fingers up over his thin T-shirt along his well-toned back.

Gibbs deepened the kiss even further, slowly beginning to arch over her, feeling the soft warm curves of her body begin to meld against him, and mentally threw his stalwart rulebook out the window.

_To hell with the rules… _

She wanted him. And he wanted her. Actually, he _needed_ her, and he knew it…

Their kisses became hungrier, and they began to wrap themselves even tighter around each other, both beginning to breathe heavier and knowing full well where this was heading…

_**A/N: SORRY! Yes, I had to end this chapter here… you'll soon see why! But fear not! These two will be scorching an M rating into this story just around the corner…. Thanks so much for reading and the reviews! -NiteJasmine**_


	15. Ch15 Another X

Chapter 15, Another 'X'

Gibbs was stunned to discover how much he truly wanted this lovely woman. And here she was…

His body definitely craved her, and immediately responded to her… all those soft voluptuous curves and those long, lean legs… she was certainly enough of a sensuous vixen to drive any man wild with lust. He certainly felt that. And he was more than ready...

But it wasn't _just_ a physical need that he felt… no. This was different. Very different. Emily was like none of the other women he had known, and he already adored her. And she was absolutely nothing like any of his exes, or any other eventually disappointing relationship he had painfully endured. No, this was so much more, and so much deeper. He had never felt this comfortable with anyone so quickly… and had never been so quick to toss his rulebook out the window…

Everything with Emily, it just felt… _good._ And being anywhere near her just felt so…_ right…_

As their kisses became increasingly more passionate, Emily's hands wandered up along Gibbs' firm back, then found their way back down and under the thin material of his T shirt. She moaned softly into his mouth when her hands finally pulled the material out of the way and sensuously curved along the bare skin of his muscular waist, just above the belt line of his jeans. As things continued to get more heated, his hands began wandering as well, one hand wrapping even more firmly into the soft red hair at the nape of her neck, the other tugging at the hem of her shirt, pulling it free. Their kiss intensified even further, and she heard him growl low and soft as his hand began to slide up along her side, caressing the silky soft skin, slowly venturing up even further…

"Well, isn't _this_ cozy," an edgy female voice said loudly.

They both immediately froze, then Gibbs inwardly cringed as he recognized the all-too-familiar combative tone. He and Emily broke their heated kiss immediately, and as they both slowly unwound themselves from each other, they also turned and looked up towards the basement door, towards the source of the rude interruption. But Gibbs already knew who that acidic voice belonged to…

Standing at the top of the stairs was the most vindictive and venomous of his all his ex-wives… Diane. She stood up there and put her hands on her hips, and although Gibbs was exceedingly irritated at her obnoxious intrusion, he also knew the woman well enough to know that she was more than prone to lash out quite viciously when she felt hurt. So he braced himself for her onslaught…

"I guess I should have called first," Diane said evenly, her eyes glaring.

"Didn't expect you," Gibbs countered.

"No kidding," she snarked back, unsmiling. "And_ I_ certainly didn't expect _Mr. Woodchuck_ to have a little _beaver_ in the basement. When the hell are you _ever_ going to put a lock on that damn front door?"

Gibbs sighed heavily, but didn't answer her, and Emily could feel the uneasy tension immediately begin radiating from him. And even though she had no rational reason to, she felt terribly guilty about putting him in this position.

_Damn it… _Emily chided herself. _I should've kissed him sooner… Should've just kept him on the boat… then he wouldn't have to be dealing with this…_

But there was no time for mentally kicking herself. There was enough tension in the room now to cut it with a knife, and Gibbs was right at the center of it. So Em decided to see if she could deflect some of the death rays coming from the top of the stairs, and maybe help to diffuse the situation…

With no further hesitation, Emily burst out into a genuine bout of muffled laughter. That immediately pulled Diane's attention away from her tight-jawed ex-husband, and instead she fixed an amused glare down at Emily.

"Thought that was funny did you?" The overbearing shrew asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Emily replied, smiling up at her, all wide-eyed and innocent-looking, and still giggling. She gently shook a humorous finger towards the woman on the stairway, grinning. "Wood… beaver…" she giggled again. "That was really good."

Diane didn't respond right away, but kept her narrowed eyes fixed on the younger woman as she advanced down the stairs. "I'm Diane," she finally said, reaching the bottom step. "One of Leroy's _many_ ex-wives."

"I'm Emily," came the pleasant reply. "Nice to meet you."

Diane huffed sarcastically. "Yeah, sure it is. Hmmm… Emily. Sounds like a nice name for a _boat_." She shot a scathing glance over at Gibbs, who stood there studying her in stoic silence.

Diane turned her attention back to Emily once again. "Well, I don't know where he found you, _Emily_… but you really should enjoy yourself while you can," she smirked, looking the younger woman up and down. "Because this man chews through women and relationships like a sawmill shredder. You'll end up being one of _us _before you even know what hit you."

Emily was about to reply, but Gibbs interrupted.

"Something I can do for you… Diane?" He said, unsmiling.

Pulling her focus from Emily, Diane tugged an envelope from her pocket, walked over and handed it to him. "An invitation to Victor's birthday party. I told him you wouldn't come, but he just gushed on and on about how you saved his life, and said he absolutely had to invite you. And he _insisted_ that I deliver the invitation personally. And since you work all kinds of ungodly hours, I figured I was sure to find you down in this damn basement about now…" she cast a glance over at Emily. "Looks like I was right."

Gibbs put the colored envelope down on the worktable. "Tell Victor thank you."

Heavy, tense silence enveloped the room. Then Diane broke the standoff. She nodded at Gibbs and huffed again. "Right. And with that… I am… _dismissed_." Diane said flatly.

She cracked a half smile, and Emily could swear she almost saw a flash of sadness in the woman's expression, but then it was gone just as quickly, and she abruptly turned away.

"You really should come Leroy," Diane said as she climbed the stairs without looking back. "Victor will be _very_ disappointed if you don't."

Diane walked out without another word. In the deafening silence left in the woman's wake, both Gibbs and Emily heard the front door slam shut and a car start up and drive away. It felt like a massive tornado had just ripped through, leaving nothing unscathed, and it took a few moments for breathable air to return…

"Victor?" Emily tentatively asked.

"Current husband. Homeland Security." Gibbs paused, briefly glancing up at her. "Long story."

"Ah… OK," she replied quietly. "Got it."

Gibbs eyes settled back onto the worktable in front of him. He stood there in silence for a bit, and Emily just stood by quietly, giving him his space and just letting him be. The last thing he needed right now was to be pushed.

"I am… sorry about that," he finally said quietly.

"Don't be. It's OK," Emily answered sincerely. "Hey, my ex showed up uninvited on my very first day at my new job, and got me all wound up too… remember?"

Gibbs cracked a tired half smile and nodded, but Emily could see the toll that his ex-wife's brief visit had taken. She wanted desperately to do something to help, but she had no idea what. She was scared to death of making the wrong move or saying the wrong thing, and doing more damage than good…

_Think of something… _her thoughts demanded. _Change the subject…_

She turned her attention back to the beautiful little boat. She walked over and caressed an appreciative hand across the glossy stern, keeping her eyes fixed on the gorgeous handiwork.

"So… _do_ you have a name for her?" She asked.

"Nope," came the quiet reply.

Emily cast him a cautiously puzzled look. "She wasn't… expecting you to name this lovely boat…"

Gibbs cut her off with a relieved huff and a half grin. "No…no. Not this one."

Emily wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but decided not to pursue it any further. But she was secretly glad that this beautiful boat was not at all intended to be emblazoned with _"DIANE"_ across her backside…

"OK. So what would you like to name her?" Emily asked.

Gibbs took a deep breath and seemed to collect himself a bit. Hoping to put the unpleasantness of his ex-wife's sudden and upsetting intrusion behind him, he made a concerted effort to latch onto the new line of conversation.

"Don't know," he said, lightly shaking his head. "How'd you come up with the name for your boat?" He asked. He could feel the heavy tendrils of tension and stress begin to slowly uncoil and release their tight grip on him, and he did his best to keep that trend going. He knew full well that Emily had intentionally launched herself into the surprise emotional confrontation, having no idea what she was getting herself involved in. But she had plunged ahead anyway, putting herself directly in the path of 'Hurricane Diane.'

Once again he appreciated her strength, her intelligence, and her fierce loyalty… he was not used to someone stepping in to protect him. He was much more accustomed to it being the other way around. He was more than capable of defending himself in just about any situation, but it was such a surprising breath of fresh air to suddenly realize that whatever the fight was, he was not battling in it alone… God, this woman was incredible…

"Oh, she already had her name when I got her," came her reply, bringing Gibbs' thoughts snapping back to the present. Emily was delighted to have the mood turn towards something brighter. "I almost renamed her, but the more work I did on her, I decided to keep her spirit intact and keep her name as it was."

Gibbs was intrigued. "Almost renamed her… What were you going to change it to?"

Emily flashed a brilliant smile, delighted to get Gibbs talking again, and focusing back on pleasant things, like boats…

"Shannon," Emily said brightly. "I was going to name her Shannon."

Gibbs expression fell into shock, and he fixed a stunned gaze on her. "What?" He managed to gasp.

"Well… I'm _from _Shannon…" Emily replied.

Gibbs froze, his stare fixed on the enigmatic redhead. Flashes of a million memories zipped through his head at dizzying speed... time seemed to stop… his heart skittered…it was suddenly hard to breathe… it felt as though the earth itself suddenly ceased to turn…

_**A/N: OK, I may have over-vilified Diane here a bit… but allow me some creative liberty… FYI- this is the last chapter before we go to an 'M' rating… the next chapter will be 'adults only'… and there will be lots of fun and happy things and wonderful stuff…!**_

_**Thanks for the reviews…send more! And thanks so much for reading!**_

_**-NiteJasmine**_


	16. Ch16 Its Late, And Early

Chapter 16: It's Late, And Early

"_I'm from Shannon…"_

Gibbs stopped and stood still, but his thoughts were racing a thousand miles an hour…

He remembered lying on an ER gurney with two bullets in him, drifting in and out of consciousness. But he also remembered clearly hearing his beloved late wife's voice, and vividly remembered seeing her standing right in front of him. _"I'll find you someone very, very special…" _she had said before she vanished into the mist. "_I'll send her to you, Jethro... And I'll find a way to make sure you know it's her…"_

The entire memory revelation had stopped Gibbs cold in his tracks.

Emily had still been talking, but Gibbs suddenly realized that he hadn't heard a word she'd said.

"Jethro?" She asked with a quizzical look. "Are you… OK?"

Recovering quickly, Gibbs cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm fine. You said you were from…" he halted, unable to actually let that name leave his lips.

"From… Shannon," Emily continued, albeit warily. "Shannon, Michigan. That's my home town. It's a tiny little place on the Southern shore of Lake Huron. Guess it's where I got my love of the water. We had this little town square, not much more than a big clock and a few park benches, but it was right on the waterfront. I used to spend hours down there, watching all the freighters go by…" She paused. The noticed that Gibbs' demeanor had definitively changed, but she was still unable to read him. "Hey, you sure you're alright?"

She worried that she had done or said something to upset him… but had no idea what. But the changes in him were clear… His body language had stiffened, and his full attention seemed to be elsewhere.

"I'm sorry," he said, shrugging off her concern. "Yeah, really, I'm fine. Guess I am just a little tired." His answer was casual, but the dialogue going on inside his head was anything but. The thought that this lovely woman had been _sent_ to him, on purpose, was for some reason frightening and very unsettling. However, he could not deny the overwhelming attraction either. So now he looked at Emily McLaren in a whole new light. Could it really be? He knew that no one would ever take Shannon's place in his heart… but having Emily show up in his life had been the first time in years that he had felt such warmth… like his soul was thawing out… Could she really be someone he could trust? Completely? Someone who would always be with him, never leave him, never betray him? Could Emily really be someone he could… _love?_

Emily saw his intense blue eyes swirling with a myriad of thoughts, but he didn't say another word. He just _looked_ at her… in a way that he had never looked at her before…

She finally registered his words… _Maybe I am a little tired…" _She broke his entrancing gaze and looked down, checking her watch. She gasped to see how incredibly late it was… or incredibly _early_, depending on one's point of view…

"Oh my God…" she said, alarmed. "Jethro, I had no idea it had gotten so late! Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to overstay my welcome. I… I'm gonna go now…" She stood up and moved towards the stairs. She stopped and gave him a warm, concerned look. "You.. _are_ OK… right?"

Gibbs gave a dismissive half grin. "Yeah. I am. Thanks for bringing my phone back."

She still couldn't get over the way he was looking at her. "No problem," she replied as she flashed a warm smile of her own. "Goodnight Jethro."

"G'nite… Emily," Gibbs answered softly as he watched her climb the stairs. He heard the front door shut, and sat back down with a tired sigh. He had entertained ideas of having Emily stay, but he had far too much information to process. And besides, he suddenly realized that he was absolutely exhausted.

He stood up and slowly trudged up the stairs, clicking off lights as he went. He toed off his shoes, laid his gun on the coffee table, and all but crashed onto the sofa.

He was fast asleep within seconds.

JLGJLGJLGJLGJLGJLGJLGJLG

***SUNDAY MORNING***

Emily squinted as she entered the busy coffee shop. She perched her sunglasses on top of her head, trying to shake away the cobwebs from her lack of sleep. This was a popular Starbucks, and there was quite a line. So she took her place and deeply inhaled the heavenly scents of the freshly brewed coffee creations as she patiently waited her turn.

But then she smelled a hint of something else… something familiar… perfume…

Emily's brain quickly connected the dots, and she looked at the woman standing in front of her.

"Hello Diane," Em said calmly.

The red-haired woman turned and recognition flashed in her eyes. "Well, well…" Diane replied slowly. "If it isn't… the_ beaver._"

Emily smiled sweetly. "Yep, that's me."

Diane's critical eyes swept up and down over Emily's lean frame before focusing on her head. "Nice hair sweetie," she quipped sarcastically. "But _my_ red is all real."

Emily maintained her smile. "So's mine," she retorted with a note of smugness.

"Well, good for you," Diane all but sneered. Then she turned around dismissively, intending to ignore any further interaction with the younger woman behind her. But that was not to be…

A few silent moments went by, and the line slowly crept towards the service counter. Both women took a few steps forward.

"I'll take good care of him, and I won't hurt him," Emily said, just loud enough for Diane to hear her.

Diane spun around to face her. "What?" She demanded.

Emily remained calm and her words were heartfelt. "Jethro. I said I'll take good care of him. And I'll never hurt him. I just wanted you to know that."

Diane huffed. "You really think I give a shit?" She demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, I do," Emily responded, then paused for a moment before continuing. "If you didn't still care about him, it wouldn't still hurt. And if it didn't still hurt, you'd have no reason to lash out at him like you do, every chance you get. So yeah, you _do_ care. A lot."

The brutal honesty of those words stung, and caught Diane completely off guard. She opened her mouth to let some stinging retort fly out, but nothing came. Instead, she actually caught her breath slightly as she felt the first rush of tears begin to spring to her eyes, but quickly willed them back. After all, she was no soft, meek little push-over. But she had to admit that this woman was completely different from anyone else that she had ever met. And she also had to admit that if there was ever anyone who was absolutely perfect for one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, it was probably this woman standing right here in front of her.

"Ma'am?" Came a lilting call from behind her, the voice laden with thinly veiled annoyance. "Ma'am? Can I take you order please, Ma'am?"

Diane whirled around and glared at the skinny little blond teenager at the counter. The poor girl had no idea that she was about to the recipient of the full brunt of Diane's venting fury.

"Oh, don't you _'Ma'am'_ me you anorexic little twit," Diane snapped loudly. The frail girl shrank back slightly and her heavily mascaraed eyes got a little wider. "And you can just _lose_ that snippy attitude of yours. _I_ am the _customer_ here Missy, and _you_ are the hired help… _You _are here for _me… _So I would suggest you shut the hell up, take my order, and get me my damn coffee. And not only should you make it snappy, you damn well better get it right! Is that clear?"

The blond girl looked shell-shocked as she meekly nodded. Diane rattled off her order, and the girl rapidly wrote it down. Emily lowered her head, keeping her face hidden, so that no one would see the slight appreciative grin on her face. Geez, this woman sure was hell on wheels… no shrinking violet, no way. Not Diane. Em had to admit that she actually admired that…

Diane moved over, and Emily placed her order, which sounded quite simplistic compared to the paragraph that Diane had taken to order hers. The two women stood side by side in silence, waiting for their cups to emerge.

Once Diane had her coffee in hand, she turned to leave. But she stopped briefly, right in front of Emily. The two red-heads looked at each other for a brief moment, both seeming to convey some kind of silent understanding.

"Thank you… _Emily_," Diane finally said sincerely. And then just a quickly, the impromptu unguarded moment was over. Diane squared her shoulders, turned away, and strode quickly from the shop.

LJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJG

Gibbs picked up his phone several times during the morning, looked at Emily's number, but never pressed the send button. He wasn't trying to avoid her, it was quite the opposite. He really wanted to see her. Or at least talk to her. Just hear her voice… But the problem was, he just didn't know what to say. Verbal communication had never been his strong suit. He was much better at _doing_ things than he was _talking_ about them. So, he made the logical decision… play to his strong suit…

LJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJGLJG

It was just after dark when Emily came up on deck. A gentle breeze was filtering in from the Southwest, bringing a soft warm air that lightly twanged in the rigging lines, and carried the alluring smell of salty sand and distant beaches.

She was wearing a light, gauzy sleeveless sundress, one of her favorite comfortable things to wear. She had a glass of deep red Merlot in one hand, and her laptop in the other. She curled up on one of the cushioned deck benches, roughly amidships, under the cover of the extended bimini top. Her hair hung loose and a few tendrils fluttered in the faint breeze as she opened her computer and let it boot up. Her curly haired little black dog Samson soon bounded up onto the deck with her, his collar tags jangling gently as he curled up and settled beside her on the oversized cushion. It was a clear night, illuminated by a ¾ moon, and the inky black sky was blazoned with a carpet of bright white stars.

It wasn't long before she realized that she had company…

Gibbs stood there, on the dock, gazing at the vision of loveliness that was Emily McLaren. She returned his gaze, her eyes affectionate, but quizzical.

"Permission to come aboard," he asked, his blue eyes seeming to sparkle even in the shadowy darkness of the dock.

Emily smiled, and lightly rolled her eyes. "I told you Jethro, you don't have to ask," she said warmly. "You're welcome aboard anytime. Come on up."

Gibbs nimbly boarded the big boat, and slowly approached her.

"You really need that?" He asked, pointing to her computer.

She looked over at the glowing screen, then back up at him. "No… not really."

There was that same look on his face that she had seen earlier, when she was leaving his basement… that same odd, enigmatic expression. And still just as unreadable.

"Good," was all he said. He reached over ad folded the top of the computer shut. Then he reached out and took the wine glass from her hand, walked across the deck, and set it on the chart table. Emily began to get concerned. What was he up to? Was he upset?

Her mind raced. Perhaps he had heard about the exchange with Diane at Starbucks… Was he upset about that? She looked at him intently as he came back and stood in front of her.

"Come here," he said quietly, and curled a finger up, beckoning her from her seated position.

"Am I in trouble?" She asked as she stood up, her expression one of confused concern.

Gibbs merely gazed at her, then reached out and brushed back a loose lock of auburn hair, tucking it gently behind her ear. She nearly shuddered at the intensity of the brief physical contact.

"Yeah," Gibbs breathed as he moved even closer. He slid one arm behind her and pulled her warm body against his. "Yeah, you are…"

Emily had the chance to finally see the unmasked desire in his blue eyes before he swooped down and claimed her mouth in a hungry, passionate kiss…

_**A/N: OK, I lied… THIS was the last chapter before we go to the 'M' rating… Eagerly awaiting your feedback and reviews! Lots more chapters to follow… and soon! Thanks for reading!**_

_**-NiteJasmine**_


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